


it's not what you're sure of (it's what you don't know)

by somehowunbroken



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: five0bang, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-11
Updated: 2012-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-29 09:18:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 44,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/pseuds/somehowunbroken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Art thief Steve McGarrett and his team come up against FBI Special Agent Danny Williams, and things spin wildly out of control from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. meetings

**Author's Note:**

> There is a character death onscreen late in the story. If you need to know any more details about it before reading, please don't hesitate to ask me.
> 
> Look at the amazing art by sian1359 [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/319542) and the amazing art by theblackrose16 [here](http://theblackrose16.livejournal.com/20863.html)!
> 
> If you want to download a mix for the story, [go here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/318248) (14 songs, one hour).
> 
> Author's notes are at the bottom, because oh my, they got long.

Steve studies the room he’s being held in. It’s nicer than most of the interrogation rooms he’s visited recently; the chairs aren’t bolted to the ground, for one, and there’s an honest-to-God water cooler in the corner. There’s even a stack of cups sitting nearby.

Steve is about ready to actually investigate the water cooler when the door slams open and a hurricane blows in, a thick manila folder in his hands.

“You,” the hurricane says, “you are a _pain in my ass_ , McGarrett.”

Steve blinks. “I’m sorry?”

“Fifteen major thefts in nine countries,” the hurricane continues. He settles into the chair opposite Steve’s. “And that’s just what we’ve been able to link to you and your crew in the last three years.”

Steve shrugs, trying for casually-interested-but-still-innocent. “That doesn’t sound like me.” It sounds close to him, but the numbers are off; it’s actually seventeen thefts in ten countries, but Steve doesn’t see any reason to share that information. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I have been tracking you and your friends for months,” the guy informs him, waving his hands around his body like they’re an extension of his words. “Months, McGarrett. I have looked at all of the notes, all of the photos. I’ve read the profiles and the theories and the random notes jotted in the margins of memos that don’t officially exist.” He folds his hands on top of the folder that he’d set on the desk and leans forward a little. “ _I have cooperated with Art Theft._. I know that might not mean anything to you, but-”

Steve just barely suppresses a snort. If he’s been trying to get help from Art Theft, then Steve can understand why the guy might be a little frustrated. “It sounds like you’ve been busy,” he says. “Anything I can do to help?”

The guy narrows his eyes, clearly unamused. “I don’t suppose you’d like to admit to stealing all of this?”

Steve grabs the list and looks it over slowly. His brow creases into a frown. “Sorry. I have no idea where any of these things are.” With the exception of Item Nine, a vase whose buyer dropped out of the deal when the local authorities had started asking too many questions, all of those things have long since left Steve’s possession. He’s not sure he could actually tell you where Item Nine currently is, either. Chin’s in charge of inventory.

“Right,” the guy says, sounding more and more annoyed by the minute. He’s turning kind of a weird shade of pink, and Steve idly thinks that the guy seriously needs to loosen his tie, or maybe lose it altogether. “Nothing on that list looks remotely familiar?”

Steve scans the list again, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth. He looks each item over carefully before flicking his finger at Item Thirteen. “I remember hearing about that going missing,” he says. The statue had been a heavy fucker; Steve had almost had to scrap his plan and make a hasty exit, but then Toast had pulled some sort of computer wizardry and the security system had merrily let him through. Getting that one through the ductwork would have been hell, Steve is sure.

“You only stole it eight months ago, I’m glad you still remember the reports,” the guy says dryly, snatching the sheet back from Steve. “I’ll give you one thing, McGarrett: you play clueless really well.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Steve replies, frowning and tilting his head. “Am I being charged with something, Special Agent…”

“Williams,” the guy snaps. “Formerly CIRG, now with CID. And no, McGarrett, you’re not being charged with anything at the moment.” He shoots Steve a smile that’s mostly teeth. “I just wanted to see, face-to-face, how good a liar you are.”

With that, Williams stands, picks up his brick of a folder, and storms back out of the room. Steve blinks after him.

-0-

“How’s it looking?” Chin asks when Steve walks into the house they’re currently using as a base of operations. Kono is on the couch, one leg pulled into her chest and the other stretched out so she can rest a foot on the coffee table. She’s got a laptop balanced on her knee, and she’s focused pretty intently on whatever she’s got on the screen.

“Where’s Toast?” Steve asks instead of answering. “I’ve got a few concerns I’d rather only talk about once, and also, I need to thank him for that thing in Barcelona again.”

“Hey, boss,” the man in question calls from the next room. “You’re welcome, man. That shit was fun.”

Steve sighs. “I’m glad you think so, buddy. Could you get in here?”

“Sure thing,” Toast replies. There’s a weird squeaking sound, and then he appears, laptop beneath his arm, inching his rolling chair across the floor. He stops a few feet from the couch.

“So I met with the FBI today,” Steve says. Kono’s eyes snap up from her screen and focus on Steve’s face.

“Well,” she says, shutting the lid of the laptop and setting it on the couch, “this sounds way more important than solitaire. How’d that go?”

“And here I thought you were researching something,” Steve sighs.

Kono nods seriously. “Research reports that red fives will not go on top of red sixes, but they like the black ones just fine. What happened?”

Chin snorts, and Toast flat-out cackles. Steve shakes his head, but he doesn’t bother to hide his grin. “It sounds like we’ve drawn interest from some new guy.”

“Art Theft needs a new hobby,” Kono mutters.

“Interesting part? He’s not with Art Theft.”

That draws everyone’s attention even more sharply. “Wait, we have real FBI agents after us now?” Kono asks after a beat. “Well, shit.”

“Special Agent Williams, no first name as of yet, was with Critical Incident Response until some point in the recent past. He’s in Criminal Investigation now, and other than that, the only thing I know about the guy is that he’s short, blonde, and pissy.”

Chin raises an eyebrow. “That’s all you found out?”

“Well, they still haven’t linked us to Mauritania or the etchings in France,” Steve replies, shrugging, “but there’s no way Agent Hurricane bought my innocent face.”

“Should have sent me,” Kono says, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “He’d buy whatever I was selling.”

“Your modesty is astounding,” Steve starts to say, but Toast goes “Whoa,” halfway through the sentence.

“What, whoa what?” Steve asks when it’s clear that Toast either forgot he spoke or didn’t realize he’d said something aloud. “Good whoa or bad whoa?”

Toast looks up slowly. “This guy could be bad news for us, boss,” he says. “Unless there’s some other Special Agent Williams working for the FBI-” He turns the screen around.

The hurricane from before stares out from Toast’s screen. He isn’t quite scowling at the camera, but it’s barely a notch below that. There’s a lot of text beneath his name.

“No,” Steve says, “that’s him. What’s his deal?”

“He’s good,” Toast says, tapping his keyboard and bringing up screen after screen. “Started as a cop in New Jersey, got recruited ten years ago to CIRG, moved to CID about six months ago. He’s got commendations up one side and down the other.”

“So he’s good,” Kono shrugs. “That doesn’t mean he’s going to be an issue for us.”

Toast shakes his head. “Call it a gut feeling, man. This guy is gonna be an issue for us.”

Steve frowns and nods. “Okay, Toast, get us a full profile. Kono, call around, see if you can find anything out.” He blows out a breath. “Chin, we’re going to need to find a new target. I think DC is going to be off our radar for a little while.”

“Let’s make it the entire Eastern Seaboard,” Chin says. “Better safe than sorry.”

Steve can’t disagree.

-0-

They reconvene over dinner; Chin reheats last night’s leftover bulgogi and sets a bowl of Froot Loops out for Toast, and they all dig in. Toast finishes his cereal in record time, slurping down his brightly colored milk as Steve hides a grimace.

“Nourished,” he declares, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. Sometimes Steve isn’t sure if he does it just for the reaction it gets out of Steve, or because he’s honestly just like that. Steve isn’t sure he wants the answer, either. “So. Special Agent Williams.”

“Just the bare bones,” Steve says, but he’s not under the illusion that this will actually deter Toast from going off on tangents.

“Right, right,” Toast says, pulling a laptop from God-knows-where and opening it up. “Williams, Daniel Joshua,” he reads. “Thirty-five, divorced, nine-year-old daughter. Started out as a cop with the police in Newark, New Jersey, recruited to the FBI at twenty-five after he brought down a leg of the mob running out of Elizabeth.” Toast glances up. “Apparently he orchestrated an undercover operation that ended up putting almost twenty guys behind bars, some of them pretty big names.”

Chin whistles through his teeth. “I remember hearing about that. It was a big deal, really set those scumbags behind for a while.”

“They were out for blood,” Steve adds. He doesn’t run with the mob, never has; violent crime isn’t his preferred style. That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t keep tabs on what’s going on around him. “Does that have anything to do with how quickly he got the hell out of Dodge?”

“No confirmation of that in the intel I got, but I’d say probably,” Toast shrugs. “They wanted him dead, brah. His kid was born about six months later, so I’d say that him staying alive was a priority for him and the little missus at that point.”

“Well, it explains how he got into CIRG at twenty-five,” Steve muses out loud. “If he’d already taken out a threat that big, CIRG would be all over him.”

“Yeah,” Toast agrees. “He and his wife divorced three years ago; she has custody of the kid, he gets visitation one night a week and every other weekend.”

“What’s the ex do?”

Toast snickers, hunching over into himself and shaking with his laughter for a moment. Steve lets him have his time; Toast is the best at what he does, but fifteen years of smoking up have done the man no favors. He eventually straightens up and clears his throat. “She’s with the Agency, too.”

“Another agent?” Steve asks, frowning. That would explain a few things about the man.

“No,” Toast replies, grinning widely. He clicks a few times before turning the laptop so they can look at the screen. There’s a photograph of a woman there – average height, thin, stunningly attractive, wearing a sharp suit and a sharper smile. “Meet Rachel Edwards, director of CID.”

There’s a few seconds of silence before Kono chokes out, “She’s his _boss_?”

“Yeah,” Toast says, looking like he’ll never stop laughing at the hilarity of it all. “She’s his boss.”

“I can’t decide if that’s a shitty break for one of them or some brilliant politics,” Steve admits when Toast calms down a little.

“She remarried about a year after the divorce. Her new husband is a lawyer at a local big-name firm, somewhere pretty high in the chain of command. Apparently the rumor mill has him running for Senate in the next race.”

“Huh,” Steve says.

“This is great, Adam,” Chin interrupts smoothly. “Is there anything in his file that says he’s going to be an issue for our operation?”

Toast shrugs. “Like I said, dude’s got a lot of awards and commendations. His police chief in Newark is quoted as saying he’s like a dog with a bone, and his ex-wife wanted him in her division badly enough to seek him out and write a really quality letter of recommendation when he applied.”

“So he’s committed to his cases, he’s good at his job, and we’re on his radar,” Steve summarizes.

“Sounds about right,” Toast nods.

Steve sighs. “Well, fuck.”

-0-

They decide to scatter for a month. There are plans in place for situations like this; one thing about being self-employed, Steve thinks, is that you can decide your own vacations on short notice. Kono leaves that night, passport in hand; Chin heads out the next morning.

“Gonna rent a bike,” Chin says with a smile. “I’ve always wanted to ride around the country.”

“Don’t get lost,” Steve teases, and Chin laughs and waves as he lopes away. Steve grins and heads back into the house. “Hey, Toast!”

“Boss man,” Toast calls out from the kitchen. “Need a hand, brah.”

Steve enters the room and stares for a moment. Toast’s bag is open, and there are wires erupting from it, going every which way. Toast is sitting behind the bag, a blue wire in his hand, and he’s rolling it up expertly. He waves at the rest of the cable monster. “Help me roll ‘em up, would you?”

“Right,” Steve replies. He knows from experience that no matter how neatly he rolls the cords, Toast will unpack them and re-wrap them at the first opportunity, so he moves haphazardly, curling cords around his hand and stuffing them into the bag. “Have you figured out where you’re going?”

Toast shrugs a shoulder. “Seattle, maybe,” he says. “Or Portland.”

“Your obsession with rainy Northwestern cities is frightening,” Steve informs him. Toast just grins and zips his bag up.

“Better than your fascination with going home all the time,” he says cheerily. Steve rolls his eyes good-naturedly. It’s an old conversation, not even an argument by this point; Steve tends to hang out around the house he grew up in when they have time off, while the rest of the team worries that any one of the dozen or so law enforcement agencies that are after him will manage to find and arrest him while he’s in his own home. So far, there hasn’t been any indication that this threat would be realized, so Steve keeps going home, and his team keeps worrying that this will be the time that his luck changes.

“At least I’ll be tan,” Steve says, clapping Toast on the back and helping him carry his bags out to the car. “You, my friend, could use a little sun.”

“Hackers are allergic to the sun,” Toast replies promptly, shutting the trunk with a slam. “I would shrivel up and die, man, and that would be bad for team spirit.”

“You are a piece of work,” Steve tells him, more amused than anything. Toast just bobs his head and gets in the car. “Five weeks, my house.”

“Yeah, yeah, and call Kamekona first,” Toast says. “I know, boss man. This isn’t my first trip taken to evade the police.”

“This is true,” Steve agrees, stepping away from the car. “Catch you on the flip side, brah.”

“Go deep, man,” Toast says. “See you in five weeks.”

Steve watches Toast drive away before heading back into the house. He’s got a ticket for the next morning, flying to Dallas under his own name, then on to Hawaii as Brent Simons. He’s got a little packing left to do, but it’s not the first thing on his agenda; one of the first lessons he’d learned in his trade was to get to know the people who want to get to know you. It’s something that he hasn’t forgotten, so he sits down with a notepad and a pen and his laptop and starts digging around for information about Special Agent Daniel Joshua Williams.

He surfaces again an hour later, three pages of notes scribbled down in shorthand that would be indecipherable to almost anyone. He’s learned a lot about Williams, enough to discern that he’ll definitely be persistent. Steve sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, wondering what jobs he can line up overseas in the next few months. It might be better to stay completely off of Williams’ radar for a while.

Steve jerks when the doorbell rings, one long ring, two short. He reaches down to pat his ankle, knowing that his gun hasn’t gone anywhere but liking the reassurance all the same. He heads for the door, wishing that they’d chosen a hotel this time, wishing that he could see who was on the other side of the door before opening it. “Wishing gets you nowhere fast,” Steve mutters, and then he opens the door to the full reach of the security chain and looks out at his visitor.

“Hi,” Williams says. “Can I come in?”

-0-

Williams declines coffee, tea, and the lone bottle of mineral water that Steve can find in the refrigerator. Steve isn’t surprised that there’s nothing else; his team knows how to break down a safehouse, and one of the key things is to get rid of anything that might suggest you were there in the first place. Food is a big indicator of that. Toast is probably unloading a trunk full of food at the food bank right now.

“So,” Williams says, looking around at the bare kitchen. Steve’s half-full duffel is on the table, beside his laptop and notepad. “Where are you headed?”

“I was thinking about visiting some family,” Steve tosses out. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen them.”

“Ah.” Williams nods. “Your sister probably misses you.” He’s studying Steve closely, probably looking for anything that Steve might be ready to give away. Steve’s been under interrogation before; he’s a little startled that Williams had been able to dig Mary up so quickly, but he doesn’t show it.

Instead, he shrugs. “I wouldn’t know. She and I aren’t on speaking terms.” It’s true, or close enough to it. Mary had been pissed when, years ago, Steve had cut her out of the operation. Mary had always been more of a think-on-your-feet type of person, which isn’t a bad quality in their line of work; the problem had been that she had always hated plans, and would deviate from the setup at the first available opportunity. Steve had finally parted ways when her habit of doing her own thing had nearly gotten Chin paralyzed.

“You don’t have any other family,” Williams says, bringing Steve back to the present. “Your parents died in a car crash when you were sixteen. No aunts, no uncles, no grandparents left alive.” Williams jams his hands into his pockets. “So, I ask again: where are you headed?”

Steve smiles thinly. “Wow, Agent Williams, you’ve sure done your homework.”

Williams lifts a shoulder. “Don’t tell me you haven’t been doing the same since our little talk yesterday.”

“I don’t know that I’ve had time to be as thorough,” Steve replies. “Special Agent Daniel Joshua Williams, CID, formerly of CIRG, formerly of the Newark Police Department. Divorced, one kid, shitty deal on the visitation rights.”

Williams’ lip curls up. “I really don’t need you rubbing my face in that, McGarrett.”

“Commendations in every job you’ve ever had,” Steve continues, as if he hadn’t heard Williams. “You were responsible for taking down a quarter of the Cirgano family’s business in northern New Jersey right before your leap into the FBI. Your ex was impressed enough with your track record to want you in her division.”

“Rachel likes having the best in her division,” Williams says, no hint of false modesty in his voice. It’s like he’s just stating facts, and that tells Steve something about the man right there. “Anyway, are you done giving me the Cliffs Notes rundown of my own life, or would you like a little more time?”

“By all means, Agent Williams, do tell me why you’re here,” Steve says dryly.

Williams spreads his hands. “What, I can’t just stop by to say hi?”

“Hi,” Steve replies, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning his hip against the counter. He can wait Williams out, if that’s his game. Steve is good at being patient.

Williams smiles wryly. “I figured you might be getting ready to split,” he concedes after a moment. “Lookie there. I was right.”

“Like I said, I’m going to go visit some family.”

“Which you then shot in the foot by admitting that you’re not speaking to the only person left who qualifies for the title,” Williams points out.

“People don’t have to be related to be family,” Steve replies shortly. He can’t decide if he’s pissed off by this guy’s brashness or if he’s actually enjoying the conversation. He has the nasty feeling that it’s both.

Williams nods. “Friends, then. Anyone I know?”

“Oh, I doubt it,” Steve says, not offering up any more than that. The best lies are the ones that you let the other party construct for themselves; the less Steve has to supply, the easier it will be to deny things later.

“I see,” Williams says. The corners of his mouth are twitching, like he’s fighting down a smile. “You’re good at evasion, I will give you points for that.”

“Thanks, I think,” Steve says, grinning. “In the interest of reciprocity, you’re good at the leading questions game.”

“Oh, pulling out the big words,” Williams says, mock surprise in his voice. “Well, now I’m assured of your innocence. Thieves don’t know big words like _reciprocity_.”

“See, I knew I could convince you,” Steve replies, nodding enthusiastically. “So, now that you’re convinced, you won’t have to waste your time going after me. You can start chasing after the real thieves, right?”

Williams chuckles. “You know what, McGarrett? You’re probably the most charming career criminal I’ve ever met, and that’s actually saying quite a lot.”

“You say the sweetest things,” Steve says, batting his eyelashes. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve got some packing to do before I get to bed, and my flight is kind of early. If there’s nothing else I can help you with…”

“Tell you what, you give me a call if there’s anything you feel like telling me,” Williams says, fishing a business card out of his pocket and handing it to Steve. He walks towards the door, but pauses before stepping into the hallway with a glance at Steve’s computer. “Researching anything interesting?”

“Porn,” Steve says cheerfully, and just as he’d thought, Williams gives a choked-off little laugh before shaking his head and heading for the door.

“You have a good night, Agent Williams,” Steve says when Williams is on the front porch.

Williams gives Steve a jaunty little wave as he walks to his car. “Have fun with your ‘family,’ McGarrett,” Williams replies, and he actually gives the word air quotes.

-0-

Steve calls Kamekona from the airport in Dallas. “Hey, brah,” he says when Kamekona gets through with his long-winded marketing pitch. “Long time, no speak. How’s it?”

“Steve, my man,” Kamekona replies, cheerful as ever. “Why you gotta let me talk so long when you know you ain’t buying nothing?”

“Hey, I don’t know about nothing,” Steve says, unable to keep the smile from his face. “You selling pickles yet? You start selling pickles, I might swing by.”

“Naw, man, no pickles,” Kamekona answers. “This is a shave ice stand, brah. We don’t sell your fancy food here.”

“Fancy,” Steve laughs. “Man, you go down to the Safeway, you pick up a jar of pickles, you might see a lot more of me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kamekona says. “You sweet-talking me, or what? Am I gonna see your ugly mug around here?”

“I’m on my way, man,” Steve says, grabbing his carry-on and heading for his gate. “I’ll be there in a few. You got someone can meet me?”

“Look for the truck,” Kamekona answers. “You far out?”

“Seven,” Steve says. “See you soon.”

“See you,” Kamekona replies, cheery as ever, as he hangs up the phone.

Steve grins at the woman sitting next to him, who is doing a poor job of hiding the fact that she’s been eavesdropping. “I’m going home,” he tells her. She nods, smiling, and doesn’t ask him to explain.

The flight attendant starts seating priority passengers not long after; Steve tucks his duffel into the overhead bin and stretches his legs out in front of himself. One of the perks of making a good living, Steve reflects, is the ability to fly first-class. His legs, at least, thank him for choosing his career path.

The flight is long, and there’s nothing particularly interesting to do. Steve pulls out his iPod and his notepad and zones out for a little while, staring at the information he had scrawled across it and thinking about what he’ll have to do when he lands.

At least he knows that it’s safe for him to go back. His team might worry, but Steve is a professional through and through; he knows people on the island, and he has them keep an eye on things while he’s gone. Calling Kamekona is always entertaining, but it’s never just for kicks: the day Kamekona decides he’s going to sell pickles is the day Steve flies as far from Hawaii as he can get, changing identities at each stop. So far, there hasn’t been any trouble, and Steve is fairly confident that he won’t run into it any time soon.

Steve’s gaze lands on a line he’d underlined yesterday while hunting down information on Williams. _Cirgano takedown _, it says. _Inside connection?___

Steve doesn’t doubt that Williams is good at his job. His track record speaks for itself, and the fact that he’d anticipated that Steve was leaving town and had actually had the balls to show up and confirm his hypothesis solidifies that thought. The Cirgano case, though, had fallen together a little too neatly for Steve’s senses; intel had turned up at just the right time, or a thug had given exactly the right confession at the right time, or something else that seems entirely too serendipitous had appeared when needed. Steve might not work with the mafia, but he’s been on this side of the law for long enough to know a setup when he sees one, and the only question he has here is why. Why had someone on the inside of the Cirgano family suddenly decided to turn state’s evidence? Why had they gone through Williams to do it? Why had Williams played along? Why had Williams left Newark almost as soon as the case had broken wide open?

Why is it bothering Steve so much that he doesn’t know?

With a sigh, Steve flips to a new page in his notepad and starts doodling aimlessly. He lets his mind wander, jotting down words as they flit through his head. It’s the kind of thing that Chin has always rolled his eyes at, but Steve has made more than one connection this way; trying to pin down the facts as they tumble around in his brain gets him nowhere, but looking at a map of the things that his mind wanders through has led Steve to more than one important breakthrough. Toast calls it “existential thinking;” Kono calls it “wicked cool.” Steve just calls it brainstorming.

It doesn’t give him any leads on Williams or the Cirganos, but by the time Steve’s plane lands in Hawaii, he has a solid plan of action for the next week. _It’s a start_ , Steve thinks as he retrieves his duffel and heads off the plane.

-0-

Kamekona himself is in the truck when Steve hops in. He leans over the console and slaps Steve on the back, and it’s only because Steve knew it was coming that he doesn’t go flying into the dashboard. Kamekona’s amateur sumo days might be over, but he’s still got both the size and the strength that he’d needed then. “Hey, McGarrett,” he says, smiling broadly. “Welcome home, brah.”

“It’s good to be back,” Steve says, relaxing into his seat. “What have I missed?”

Kamekona launches into a detailed recounting of everything that has happened on the island since Steve last left. It’s been an eventful six months, according to Kamekona, and his stories have Steve laughing all the way to his house. “You’re telling me that little Amana actually slugged Nehele?”

“Well, to be fair, he was making fun of her,” Kamekona observes, grin firmly in place. “She’s a tough one, too. My cousins are gonna rule this place in a decade or so, you’ll see.”

“I never doubted that,” Steve says, shaking his head. “Remind me not to get on Amana’s bad side.”

“I’ll tell her that you’re afraid of her,” Kamekona replies. “She’ll be so proud of herself.”

“She punched your brother in the nuts,” Steve points out mildly. “Hell yes, I’m afraid of her. I’m kind of attached to mine.”

“I’ll leave that part out,” Kamekona continues. “We’re roasting a pig up at Mamo’s tomorrow after dark. You in?”

“If you want to give me a lift, sure,” Steve says, eyes already searching for his house as the car turns the corner. “I still don’t have that clunker of my dad’s working, and I’m not sticking around for long enough to rent something.”

“I’ll see what I can do about that,” Kamekona says as they pull into Steve’s driveway. “Might take a few days, but I’m sure I can get you some sort of transportation around the island while you’re home.”

“Appreciated,” Steve says, sliding out of the truck and reaching for his duffel. “Tell Mamo I can’t wait to see him.”

“Will do,” Kamekona says. “Good to have you home, man.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, slapping the side of the truck before turning to walk up the path.

The house is exactly how Steve remembers leaving it; all of the alarms are sitting quietly, waiting for him to disarm them, and the locks are set in the same sequence that he planned before leaving. There aren’t any voids in the dust on the floors or errant footsteps in the carpet, and Steve doesn’t notice anything out of place as he makes a sweep of the house. He won’t be fully satisfied until he’s had a chance to review the footage from his security system, but after fifteen minutes of prowling around the house, he’s comfortable enough to stash his duffel in the master bedroom and find a takeout menu.

Steve studies his notes as he eats his pizza. He can afford to take the rest of the day off and recover from his jet lag a little, he decides. He can set things in motion at Mamo’s tomorrow night. It will probably be easier than trying to get in touch with everyone he needs to see on their own; Mamo’s little get-togethers generally attract exactly the kinds of people that Steve will be looking for.

Satisfied with his plan for the next day, Steve cleans up the remains of his pizza and heads for the stairs. It’s barely even dark out, but he collapses into bed and is asleep almost instantly.

-0-

Despite his warning that it would take time, it’s the sound of Kamekona beeping his horn in the driveway that drags Steve from sleep the next day. When he looks out his window, he sees the big man in his truck, grinning widely. “Got a car for you, brah!”

“Great,” Steve shouts back, wiping a hand over his face. “Give me ten, man, and I’ll be down.”

Steve showers and throws on a pair of cargoes and a tee shirt. He’s in Kamekona’s truck less than eight minutes after waking, holding on for dear life as Kamekona speeds down his street.

“It’s a sweet ride,” Kamekona says proudly, and Steve winces inwardly. It isn’t that he doesn’t trust Kamekona implicitly, but the man’s taste in vehicles can be summed up in one glance at the dilapidated truck that he refuses to turn in. Steve would never be one to turn down his help, though, so he nods his head and resigns himself to driving someone’s beat-up pickup around the island for the foreseeable future.

Kamekona pulls into a used car dealership and climbs out of the car with a smile. “Wait here,” he says, ambling to the door of the dealership. “I gotta see a guy about a thing.” He winks and Steve laughs, watching his friend disappear into the building.

Steve occupies himself by looking around at the parking lot. It’s mostly mid-sized sedans, with a few clunkers and a few nicer-looking cars. He wonders which one he’s going to end up driving, and he’s between the green four-door Malibu or the dark blue two-door Impala when Kamekona walks back out, jingling a set of keys.

“I done good,” he proclaims. “Wait until you see this baby, brah.” He chuckles and drives his truck around the side of the building, away from the two that Steve had been deciding between. Kamekona pulls his truck to a stop beside the building and looks over at Steve expectantly. “Hit the unlock button on the keychain,” he prods. Steve looks at the fob in his hand and touches one of the buttons, and the second car in line chirps back at him.

“Awesome,” Kamekona declares as Steve clicks the button again to confirm that, yes, it’s really that sporty little silver Camaro. Steve feels the grin spread wide over his face as he climbs out of the truck and walks over. The door opens for him on command, and Steve ducks his head inside. It’s tricked out, with a full leather interior, speakers everywhere Steve can think to look for them, a navigation system, and a plug-in for his iPod. Steve draws his head back out and laughs.

“Do I even want to know how you managed to get your hands on this?” he asks.

“I’m gonna have to plead the fifth,” Kamekona tells him cheerily. “Suffice it to say, Pono and I are now even, and you get to drive this little number around for a while.”

“Is there an expiration date on this deal?” Steve asks.

Kamekona just shakes his head. “I’ll spare you the details, but no, it’s yours until you don’t need it any more.”

“I might need it for the rest of my life,” Steve says seriously. He holds his expression steady for a few seconds before breaking into laughter. “Seriously, man, this is great. I owe you.”

“Nah,” Kamekona says, waving a hand dismissively. “We’re cool, McGarrett. Just try not to wrap it around any trees, you get me?”

“Got it,” Steve agrees, sliding into the car. Five minutes later, he’s speeding down the highway, grinning like a madman.

-0-

Steve pulls up to Mamo’s well before sunset. He knocks at the door, and as soon as Mamo answers, Steve finds himself wrapped up in a ferocious bear hug.

“It’s good to see you, Steve,” Mamo declares, holding Steve at arm’s length and smiling.

Steve smiles back and claps Mamo on the shoulder as the older man lets his hands drop. “You look great, Mamo. Retirement treating you well?”

“Eh, you know how it goes,” Mamo says, hobbling back into the house and holding the door open for Steve. He isn’t leaning on his cane any more than he was the last time Steve had seen him, which Steve counts as a minor miracle. “Some days the water’s cooking, some days it’s dead.”

“You and the surf lingo, Mamo,” Steve says, chuckling. “How’s Nina doing?”

Mamo lights up and jerks his chin at a photograph on the end table. “She’s getting married,” he says proudly. “She finally asked that boy of hers. Said he’d never work up the nerve, and she wasn’t gonna wait for him any longer.”

“Good for her,” Steve replies. “When’s the wedding?”

Steve and Mamo chat for a while as Steve helps set up for the cookout. Steve doesn’t bring up shop talk until the sun is nearly setting. “Who should I expect to see tonight?” he asks as he carries a bucket of iced drinks outside.

“Who do you need to see?” Mamo asks in return. “They’ll probably be here, unless it’s someone off the usual grid.”

“Someone for papers and someone for laying some trails,” Steve replies. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

Mamo nods. “I’ve got you,” he says, and before Steve can reply, the front door opens and the first of the guests enter the house.

-0-

Steve ends the evening with an appointment to get new papers from a contact of Mamo’s in Pearl City and another to see the leader of the Kapu on the island. Steve has dealt with Kawika before; he’s dependable, and he can’t be bought away from you once you’ve earned his trust. As far as Steve is concerned, that’s all he needs in any sort of associate.

“How long are you staying?” Mamo asks. Steve is sitting on Mamo’s lanai, watching as Kamekona and Nina’s fiancé work on cleaning up further down the beach.

Steve shrugs and rolls his beer bottle between his fingers. “The plan is for everyone else to meet here in five weeks.”

Mamo whistles. “That’s lying low for a while, kiddo. What’s got you so spooked?” At Steve’s shrug, Mamo snorts. “I know you were in DC for a job, and I know you pulled the plug,” he says. “Spill it.”

“There’s this guy at the FBI,” Steve starts, and from there it’s easy to tell Mamo about Williams, about what he’s found and about his suspicions. Mamo listens intently, nodding as Steve lays the situation before him. He’s silent when Steve finishes, his eyes crinkling in a way that means he’s thinking.

“I don’t know,” he says after a few minutes. “It sounds like you’ve got yourself quite a tail there, kiddo.”

Steve nods. “Hence the new identities and the false leads,” he points out. “We’re going to take it easy for a bit, and then we’re going to regroup and head overseas for a while. There’s only so much the FBI can do about crimes committed on foreign soil.”

Mamo purses his lips. “I might know someone in Russia who could use your team,” he says. “Let me make a few phone calls in the morning.”

Steve flashes him a smile. “Thanks, Mamo.”

Mamo gets to his feet, clapping Steve on the shoulder. “My pleasure, kiddo.”

Steve rises as well, grabbing the last few things from the table and following Mamo into the house. “Anything I can do for you while I’m around?” he asks.

“I’ll let you know,” Mamo promises. “Go on now, shoo. Let an old man sleep.”

“Kamekona and Ben are still out back,” Steve reminds him, and Mamo winks.

“Let an old man throw his nephew and his future son out, and then sleep,” he amends. Steve grins and heads to his car.

-0-

The phone on the bedstand rings before the sun comes up. Steve groans, grabbing for it without lifting his head from the pillow. It takes a few tries, but he manages to find it before it goes to voicemail. “H’lo?”

“Hey, brah,” Kamekona says. He sounds far, far too awake for – Steve checks his clock – five in the morning. “Got some news for you.”

“Is everything okay?” Steve’s mind is snapping into focus. He sits and swings his legs over the side of the bed. “Talk to me, man.”

“Um, well, I’m still not selling pickles,” Kamekona says, “but I might be selling cucumbers.”

Steve frowns, mulls the phrase over in his head, and rubs at his face. “I’m not understanding you here.”

“It’s not exactly trouble,” Kamekona says, voice hushed, “but I thought I should warn you about it anyway.”

“Something that might become trouble,” Steve replies. “Cucumber. Got it.” He pauses. “So, is this… cucumber… coming to me?”

“Oh, I think so,” Kamekona says. “Should be there in a few minutes. You’re not in any danger, brah, but you’ll probably want to be careful.”

“Right,” Steve says, standing and going to his dresser. If there’s a situation headed in his direction, he’d really rather be clothed to face it. “Thanks for the warning, man. It’s always good to know when the vegetable aisle starts invading.”

“Any time,” Kamekona replies with a laugh. Steve tosses the phone onto the dresser and tugs a shirt on over his head. He’s got just enough time to stick his feet in his boots and hide a knife in his pants – there’s no such thing as being too prepared – before he hears a knock on the door.

Steve makes his way down the staircase quietly, then walks to the front door. He peers out the window, but whoever knocked knows the house’s blind spots, because he can’t see anyone on the porch. Steve is considering his options when whoever it is knocks again. “I know you’re in there,” a voice says. “Open the damn door, Steve.”

Steve blinks at the back of the door before disengaging the alarm and throwing the door open. He stands there for a few seconds in shock.

“Hey, big brother,” Mary says, a huge smile pasted onto her face. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”


	2. mary mary

“Uh,” Steve says, gripping the door tightly. It’s been eight years since he last laid eyes on his little sister. “Mary. Hi. What the hell are you-”

“I’m coming in,” she announces, brushing past Steve and striding straight into the kitchen. “Do you have anything to drink? Alcohol,” she adds, poking her head back out into the hallway. “And geez, Steve, shut the door. You’re letting the bugs in.”

Steve shakes his head quickly and shuts the door, engaging the alarms and throwing the deadbolt. “Mary, it’s not even light out yet. That means it’s way too early for alcohol.”

“This is why I’m the fun one, and you’re the stick-in-the-mud,” Mary says with a sigh. “Fine. Juice?”

“Why are you here?” Steve asks, crossing his arms over his chest. Mary looks at him, all fake innocence and wide eyes. It’s fine. Steve can wait her out.

“It’s been eight years since I’ve seen you,” Mary says after a minute. “I can’t just drop in to say hi?”

“You had eight years to come up with an appropriate thing to say when you see me next, and that’s what you go with?” Steve shoots back.

“Maybe I missed you,” Mary insists, opening the refrigerator and poking her head inside. “God, Steve, has your health food obsession actually gotten worse? Do you even have normal-person food in the house?”

“Mary,” Steve says sharply. Mary comes out of the refrigerator empty-handed and slams the door, leaning back against the counter and meeting Steve’s glare with one of her own.

“God,” she snaps, “I come back to help you, and this is the thanks I get. You know, I honestly thought that the whole time and distance thing was blowing my memories of your attitude out of proportion, but now I’m thinking it might have actually dimmed them a little.”

“Help me?” Steve frowns. “Help me with what?”

“And there’s the patented Steve McGarrett avoidance tactic,” Mary says, deflating a little. “I make a point about you maybe trying not to be an ass to me within the first three minutes of seeing me again, and you grab onto the one part of what I’m saying that might be beneficial to you.”

Steve drops his arms. “The last time I saw you, you said you never wanted to see me again,” he points out. “Pardon me for being somewhat confused, but your signals are a little mixed here.”

“It’s been _eight years_ ,” Mary replies, throwing her hands up. “I was a lot stupider eight years ago, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

“Not particularly,” Steve sighs. “Look, I – can we start this over?”

“Sure,” Mary says warily. “Do you want me to go back out on the porch, or-”

“Hi, Mary,” Steve interrupts, walking to her side and drawing her into a hug. “It’s good to see you. You look great.”

Mary’s arms come up around Steve’s torso and hold on tightly. She pulls in a deep breath as her hands clutch the back of his shirt. “I did miss you. I wasn’t just saying that.”

“I missed you too,” Steve says, not wanting to let go just yet. From the way Mary is squeezing him, Steve is pretty sure that feeling is mutual. “How have you been? How’s work? Where’s home these days?”

“Good, decent but not great, and I’ve got a place in Omaha,” Mary says.

Steve blinks and pulls back. “Omaha? As in, the middle of Nebraska?”

“It’s almost as east as you can get and still be in Nebraska,” Mary points out, “but yes, that’s the Omaha I’m in.”

“What the hell are you doing in Omaha?”

“Following your advice,” Mary says. At Steve’s frown, she adds, “Staying low is easier in a place where nobody’s looking for you.”

Steve finally takes a few steps back. He grabs some fruit from the bowl on the counter and gestures for Mary to sit at the table as he pulls out the blender. “Are you in trouble?”

Mary shakes her head. “No more than usual, no. And nobody’s looking for me specifically.”

Steve waits, but she doesn’t elaborate. “Care to explain that last bit?”

“I had a contact get in touch with me about a week ago,” Mary tells him. “Apparently, someone is looking into your file, and in doing so is also looking into mine.” She shrugs as Steve puts the fruit into the blender. “I’m thinking that I’m more likely to be collateral damage than an actual target in this, but either way, it might be best if the problem just… wasn’t a problem any more, right?”

“Right,” Steve says cautiously. Damn, Williams is thorough. It’s not like Steve is actually surprised by this news, but it still doesn’t bode particularly well.

“I know a guy who can get this FBI dude off your back,” Mary says, leaning back in her chair. “He owes me a favor, and he’s got the brains to take care of it quietly.”

“Quiet is good,” Steve agrees as he sets the smoothie in front of Mary. “That’s a big favor, though. It’s not like you’re asking him to get some punk off your back, Mary. It’s not even like it’s local police. The FBI is pretty tenacious when they put their minds to something, and this guy seems like he’s extra-dedicated to his job.”

“Maybe he just likes your ass,” Mary says blandly. Steve doesn’t choke on air, but it’s a close thing. “Look, this guy owes me big time. If I tell him that creating a distraction will even us out, I’m pretty sure he’ll go for it.”

“Drawing the FBI out will even the score?” Steve whistles. “What the hell did you do for this guy?”

Mary grins. “You don’t even want to know.”

It’s probably the truth, Steve thinks as he starts rinsing the blender in the sink.

-0-

Mary wanders around the house like she’s afraid of waking ghosts, which is probably close to accurate. Their parents had made Mamo the guardian of the estate, and he’d kept things up after Jack and Rebecca had died; when Steve turned eighteen, he’d moved back in. Mary had been just as entitled to the house and the memories, but she’d chosen to keep her distance, moving to the mainland as soon as she was able. As far as Steve knows, she hasn’t been back here in nearly two decades.

“There’s a lot that’s different,” she smiles when Steve asks her if she’s okay. She’s sitting in the chair in what had been their father’s study, staring out at the ocean. “Like, I went to make myself a sandwich before, and the plates aren’t where I thought they’d be.” She glances up at Steve’s face. “They’re the same plates, but they’re not where the plates go.”

Steve swallows. “I had to make it mine,” he tries to explain, but Mary shakes her head.

“Different isn’t bad,” she says. “It just made me realize that this isn’t the same place that I left when I was fourteen, that’s all.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes, both of them processing their thoughts. Steve breaks the silence after a little while. “So have you called your friend?”

Mary snorts. “Let’s just clear that up right now. He’s not a friend, not by any stretch of the definition. He’s just a guy who was in a tight spot a few years back, I was in a position to do him a favor, and he hasn’t been able to pay me back for it. Professional acquaintances, maybe, but friends? Not even close.”

“Ah,” Steve replies. The hairs on the back of his neck are prickling like they do when he’s uneasy about something. “This guy isn’t going to try to screw us over or anything, is he?”

Mary shakes her head immediately. “He’s a professional,” she says. “I’m not asking him to kill anyone for me, so I doubt he’ll even blink over this. I’m not afraid of him spontaneously growing a conscience and turning on us, either.”

“Sounds good to me, then,” Steve says. “I mean, I’ve got backup plans in place, but I’d really rather not run off to Europe for a year if it’s not strictly necessary.”

“Chin would kill you,” Mary agrees. “Too long away from Malia.”

“It’s not like he sees her that often anyway,” Steve grumbles. “I mean, we’re doing five weeks of downtime right now, and he’s on a motorcycle in the Southeast, not visiting her here.”

Mary raises an eyebrow. “Okay, first of all, he’ll probably come back at least a week early to spend time with her, and secondly, we can’t all have relationships with smoking hot cat burglars based entirely on sex.”

“Hey,” Steve protests, trying to fight the flush he can feel rising in this cheeks. “Catherine and I had a lot in common-”

“-sure, you steal things, she steals things-”

“-and anyway, I haven’t seen her in almost three years,” Steve finishes. “She met some guy in Brazil and settled down.”

Mary stares at him for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. “Catherine? She married some guy in Brazil and is, what, popping out babies that speak Portuguese?”

“Well,” Steve says, shifting uncomfortably, “as far as I know, she’s still. You know. Working.”

“Tell me you were at this wedding,” Mary says, delighted. “Tell me you’ve met the new Mr. Rollins.”

“Yes, I was there, and he didn’t take her name, Mary.”

“She didn’t take his,” Mary declares with the air of someone who knows that they’re correct. Steve only holds out for a few seconds before shrugging a shoulder.

“Anyway, I’m not sleeping with Catherine any more,” Steve says, hoping they can move on from his sex life.

No such luck. “So who _are_ you sleeping with these days?”

“Who are _you_ sleeping with?” Steve shoots back, more out of habit than anything else, and then immediately holds up a hand. “Actually, no, spare me. I’m not sleeping with anyone at the moment, and I’m perfectly fine with that,” he says sternly, watching as Mary smirks. “Leave it alone, Mary.”

“Of course,” she says sweetly. “He’ll be here tomorrow.”

Steve has to backtrack for a moment before he can figure out what the hell she’s talking about. “This is just for business, right? You’re not trying to set me up with this guy or anything, are you?”

Mary’s smirk grows into a full-fledged grin. “That doesn’t sound like something I would do.”

“It sounds exactly like something you would do,” Steve huffs. “I’m not interested, Mary. I’d like to focus on laying low for a while, and that’s not too conducive to starting a relationship with anyone, let alone a guy you very adamantly denied was a friend of yours.”

Mary rolls her eyes. “You’re not his type,” she informs Steve, “and I’m pretty sure he’s already involved with someone.” She grins. “The look on your face was kind of priceless, though.”

Steve rolls his eyes and stands up. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Mary asks, tilting her head back to look at Steve.

“Mamo would love to see you,” Steve says, and from the way Mary’s face lights up, that feeling is probably mutual.

-0-

Dinner at Mamo's went well; he and Mary reconnected like they'd never spent a day apart, and Steve had fit right in, sitting between his sister and his mentor and feeling the years slip away. Mamo had looked after Mary and him after their parents had died, and sitting with the two of them now is a little like reliving the past and a little like hope for the future. Steve can't recall the last time he was this kind of relaxed.

"So," Steve says as he pulls the Camaro back into his driveway. "When is your not-friend getting here?"

Mary rolls her eyes. "He'll be here in the morning."

"The morning," Steve repeats. "That's not really helpful, Mary. Do I need to be up before the sun again, or can I sleep in a little?"

"His flight lands at ten," Mary says. "He said he'd rather catch a cab over than have me pick him up." At Steve's frown, Mary rolls her eyes. "And yes, I told him that you were paranoid and wouldn't want him knowing where the house was before you checked him out personally or whatever, so he's going to call me when he settles into his hotel room." She fishes a small phone out of her purse and waves it at Steve.

"Okay," Steve says, a little grudgingly. It's exactly what he would have planned for meeting a contact for the first time, and he's a little surprised; it's not Mary's usual style, being this careful - or at least it hadn't been eight years ago. Steve is starting to suspect she's grown a lot more than he had originally thought. "So we probably won't hear from him until noon."

"Probably not," Mary agrees. "I'm guessing you'll be up way before then anyway, though. Sleeping that late was never your style."

"Styles change," Steve says with a shrug, but she just rolls her eyes again.

"If you get up ten minutes before he calls, you won't be able to swim to Maui and back before we have to go," she says matter-of-factly.

Steve just grins and gets out of the car.

-0-

"Hey!" Mary hollers up the stairs at quarter past eleven in the morning. "Steve!"

"What?" Steve is in the middle of typing an email; even if this guy is able to pull off a successful distraction, he's still planning on taking his crew overseas for a little while. Better safe than sorry, or in jail.

There's the sound of thundering footsteps. Steve spares a moment to marvel at how Mary is able to switch so easily between the herd of thundering elephants that he’d grown up with and the skilled thief that he knows she is. She can move like a ghost when she wants to, but she usually doesn't bother. It's part of why she's so effective - people tend to dismiss her as a suspect when they see her in her day-to-day life. "He called, wants to meet up for lunch."

"Ah." Steve motions to his computer. "I'm in the middle of..."

"Finish it up, that's fine. I told him we'd meet at the fish place on Kailui at noon." Steve starts a little, and Mary puts her hands on her hips. "Honestly, Steve, it's a little insulting that I keep surprising you like this. I'm not completely incompetent, but every time I do something that's even a little bit professional, you act like I'm doing something earth-shattering."

"Sorry," Steve says. "It's just - none of this is how I remember you." He tries a smile. "I'm adjusting, okay?"

Mary's glare softens a little. "Like I said, I was a lot stupider eight years ago," she reminds him. "I've learned a lot on my own. Setting up a meeting in neutral ground is risky but necessary, unless the person you're meeting doesn't know that it's not nearly as neutral as they think it is."

"So you picked the place next door to Kamekona's," Steve finishes, smiling wider. "Does he know?"

Mary shrugs. "If you mean did I tell him, then no, but he's quicker on the uptake than he lets on. I'm sure he'll figure it out."

"Probably," Steve agrees. "Let me just finish this email and we can get going, okay?"

"Let me know when you're ready," Mary says, tapping her fingers against the wall as she leaves the room.

-0-

They arrive at the fish place ten minutes early; Mary says that her contact isn't there yet, but Steve doesn't want to risk stopping by Kamekona's either way. If the guy is good enough to draw off the FBI without getting caught, he's definitely good enough to be scoping out the area without giving himself away.

They choose a table near the road, and their waitress smiles and brings them drinks and a basket of fries before wandering away. She brushes her fingers across Steve's shoulder as she leaves, and Mary snorts. "She'd probably help you out with that nonexistent sex life of yours."

"Can we not," Steve sighs, feeling the tips of his ears turn red. Mary just laughs.

"Mary," a man's voice says, rich and heavy, and Steve looks up at the man who's supposedly going to get him out of this mess.

Mary's not-friend is a few inches shorter than Steve, with honey-blonde hair that he keeps swept back from his forehead. His eyes are sharp in his face, constantly glancing around, cataloguing his surroundings. Steve mentally pegs him as part of some organized crime family or another.

"Victor," Mary says, standing to accept a kiss on the cheek. "Good to see you made it."

"You called," Victor replies, spreading his hands out in front of his body. "Never let it be said that I would refuse a lady's request."

Mary smiles, and Steve wonders if Victor can see that it's fake as easily as he can. "I'm sure hearing that you could be free and clear of that little IOU you've had out didn't hurt, either."

"I'll admit, the thought did cross my mind," Victor says easily, sitting after Mary sits back down. He glances at Steve. "You said your friend needed help?"

"I could use a hand," Steve volunteers. "Mary said she knew someone who might be able to help me out."

Victor nods and purses his lips, turning to Mary. "And helping your friend here would settle our score," he says, half-asking and half-demanding.

"It would," Mary agrees.

"You're going to owe her one hell of a favor, mate," Victor says, turning back to Steve.

Steve shrugs. "We'll work it out between us."

“I’m sure you will,” Victor drawls. “Now, what is it that I can do for you?”

Steve takes a breath and outlines his problem and his plan, giving no more information than is strictly necessary, and Victor nods along. They both look over at Mary when Steve finishes.

“Distract the FBI,” Mary says simply. “I know you have the ability to do it. Make a big fuss over something, and draw this guy’s attention away from Steve so he and his crew can slip out of the country for a while. Give him something else to focus on so he forgets about them for a while.”

“A diversion,” Victor says thoughtfully, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair. He squints out at the horizon, but Steve has the feeling that he isn’t watching the surfers or the sunbathers. “How long would you need?”

“As long as you can give us,” Steve shrugs. “Ideally, three days for all of us to get out and meet up on the other side, but if push came to shove we’d really only need about thirty-six hours to make it out.”

Victor raises an eyebrow. “That’s rather a lot of time for four people to leave the country.”

“We wouldn’t want to leave together,” Steve says. Victor nods once, and Steve adds, “and we’ll need to take a few non-standard items along, so the transportation would take a little careful arranging.”

“Ah,” Victor says, nodding again. “So what would be the target date for this distraction?”

“I’d need a week to get my people set,” Steve says. “After that, the timing would be up to you. As long as I have a twenty-four hour notice, I can wait as long as you need to set things in motion.”

Victor doesn’t reply, but his eyes flick back to Mary. “This will even us out?” he asks again.

“If you keep asking me that, the answer’s going to change,” Mary says sweetly. Victor chuckles.

“We have a deal,” he says, standing from the table. Steve and Mary both rise as well, and Victor reaches out to shake first Steve’s hand, then Mary’s. “I’ve another meeting to get to this afternoon. When shall we meet to work out the details?”

“Tonight,” Steve says with feeling. “Give Mary a call when you’re finished, and she’ll sort out directions to my place. The sooner we get this thing going, the better.”

“Until tonight, then,” Victor says, nodding once before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

“Well,” Mary says brightly as they sit back down, “that went pretty well, don’t you think?”

“So far, so good,” Steve agrees, picking up his drink.

-0-

Victor arrives just after ten that night, dressed completely in black. Steve is pretty sure his hair is dyed darker, too, but he tries not to dwell on it, and he definitely doesn’t ask. "Evening," Victor says when Steve lets him inside. "Mary's already here, I assume?"

"She's here," Steve confirms. "Can I get you anything before we get down to business?"

"A Scotch, if you've any," Victor says, heading towards the kitchen when Steve indicates. "Thank you."

Steve pours Victor's drink and heads for the kitchen. Mary has her laptop open, and she and Victor are talking when Steve sets the drink down.

"What, none for me?" Mary pouts when Steve settles down on her other side. "Like I said yesterday, you're no fun at all."

"Get your own," Steve shoots back, turning to Victor. "So, are we ready?"

Victor has an amused smirk on his face. "Victor Hesse," he says, holding out his hand. "Pleasure to meet you formally."

"Steve McGarrett," Steve replies, shaking Victor's hand again. Victor dips his head.

"I had my suspicions earlier, but that little show there confirmed it for me," he says. "You don't look a thing alike, but there are very few people that Mary McGarrett would trade favors for, and you do act related."

"Hazard of being related to him," Mary quips. "Let's get this ball rolling, okay?"

Steve takes her laptop and falls silent, accessing the file he'd put on the desktop earlier. He's got a backlog of Williams' cases from his early days in Newark to his current workload. Steve isn't sure whether to be complimented or annoyed that his file is currently the only one on Williams' desk. He pulls up a photo and turns the laptop to Hesse. "Meet my pain-in-the-ass FBI tail."

"Well, bloody hell," Victor says, surprise evident in his voice as he stares at the screen. "Hallo, Detective Williams."

Steve conceals his surprise; Mary doesn't. "You know him?" she asks, leaning in.

"He was quite a thorn in my employer's side several years ago," Victor says, never looking away form the screen. "We assumed that he'd been taken out when he dropped off the radar. Apparently that isn't the case."

"Wait, wait, you're with the Cirganos?" Steve demands, that sense of unease he'd had yesterday flaring back up in full force. "The family in New Jersey that Williams broke up a decade ago?"

"Indeed," Victor says, finally snapping his eyes away from Williams' photo on the screen. "If you'll excuse me, I have to make a phone call. This - this may change things." He gives a thin smile and stands, walking out onto the lanai and pulling a slim phone from his breast pocket.

"Mary," Steve says, voice low in his throat. "Tell me you didn't know. Swear to me that you had no idea he was mixed up with the Cirganos."

Mary is shaking her head frantically by the time Steve stops speaking. "I had no idea, Steve, I really didn't," she says, voice hushed. "I knew he had some sort of mob ties, but I didn't know it was to - Steve, I wouldn't have suggested him if I had known, I swear."

"Okay," Steve breathes, "okay, now we just need to do some damage control, right? Damage control."

"I don't know how much damage control we can reasonably expect to do here," Mary says, watching Victor pace around on the lanai, phone up to his ear. "I mean, he's probably on the phone with someone back in Jersey right now, and if the news is already out that Williams is alive and well, it's not like we can make him take it back or something."

"Right," Steve agrees. "We'll just..."

But he can't think of anything off the top of his head, and a moment later, Victor snaps his phone shut and walks back into the kitchen, a smile on his face.

"I've good news," he announces. "I'll take care of your little issue for you on a permanent basis, and it won't even cost you that favor you were planning to trade on."

-0-

"This is not good," Mary says when Victor leaves. "I swear, Steve, I had no idea that he was going to suggest _killing_ this guy."

"I know," Steve says, shutting his eyes tightly.

"I mean, I’m a thief, sure, and I've done some shit I'm not proud of, but murder is not my idea of a good time," Mary babbles, as if Steve hadn't spoken. "Steve, we have to - what can we do?"

"Mary," Steve says sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. Mary shuts up, staring at Steve with wide, panicked eyes.

"Okay," he says after a moment of silence. "Okay, here's what we're going to do. You're going to go to Mamo's. I'll call him and tell him you're on your way. Bring him back here. I'm going to call Kamekona and have him drive over. I'll conference my team in, and we'll come up with a plan here, okay?"

Mary nods, already heading for the door.

"Mary," Steve calls. She stops and turns, and Steve pitches her the keys to the Camaro. "Break a few speed limits, okay?"

"Got it," Mary says tersely, disappearing out the door.

Half an hour later, Mamo is nestled in the big armchair in the living room, frowning as Steve sets up his computer. The screen is split into four panels, and his team's faces show in three. The fourth is blank, but as Steve taps on the keyboard, it blinks to life, showing the living room and its occupants.

"Okay, bossman, it looks good," Toast says. "There's a little bit of a delay between the video and the voice feeds, but it's the best I can do on short notice."

"We're good, Toast, thanks," Steve says. "So, just to bring everyone up to speed: we have a problem."

"No shit," Kono says dryly. "I kind of assumed that was the case when I got the emergency page." She waves her phone around. "And as good as it is to see that nobody seems to be bleeding out, I'm wondering why I've been summoned if it's not a life-or-death situation."

"It kind of is," Steve says grimly, diving into the story.

-0-

“That’s a mess, kiddo,” Mamo says when Steve falls silent. “You know what you have to do, right?”

“Stop Hesse,” Steve says, then adds, “I just don’t have the first clue as to how.”

Mamo stares at him for a moment before nodding. “Well, what can we do from this end?”

“Steve,” Chin says, and Steve looks at his face on the computer screen. His expression is intent as he leans in closer to the camera on his laptop. “You realize you’re talking about taking on the mob, right?”

“I understand if you want out,” Steve says immediately. “I know this isn’t what you signed on for, but-”

“Mary, smack him for me,” Kono cuts in. Mary obliges, smirking when Steve shoots her a glare. “That’s not what Chin is saying and you know it, brah. We’re just checking to make sure you know what we’re getting into here.”

“I know,” Steve says slowly. “And trust me, it’s not what I thought I’d be planning when I woke up this morning, but-” He sighs, frustrated, and runs his fingers through his hair. “Look, guys, I steal shit, okay? I’m a little worried that this guy will be able to connect me to certain things I’ve taken, and he might throw me in jail. That would suck for me; if he’s good enough to do that, he’s absolutely good enough to connect you guys to me, which would make it suck for you, too. So, yes, I want him off our backs.”

“He’s got a kid,” Toast says, and Steve nods.

“I don’t think he’s done anything that would warrant killing him, even if he didn’t, but yes. He has a daughter, one who, by all accounts, adores him. I don’t want to take that girl’s dad away just because I asked the wrong guy to give us a hand.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Mary says miserably. “If I had done a little more research-”

“Hey, _ilima_ , we can do all the research we need now,” Toast says, grinning around his lollipop. “We’ll figure it out.”

Mary smiles at the screen, and Toast beams back out at her. “Thanks, Adam.”

“Anyway,” Steve says, “I’m cancelling our setups until we figure this out.” He leans in intently. “I don’t want this guy’s blood on my hands, no matter what that means for me.”

“Tough promise to make, brah,” Kamekona observes from his seat on the couch. “You gonna take a bullet for this haole?”

Steve barely hesitates before shrugging a shoulder. “I’d really rather it didn’t come to that.”

“And if it does?” Mamo asks, leaning out of his seat. “Think about it, Steve. I do not want you to just toss words at me here; I want your honest answer.”

“I think that’ll have to be a game-time decision,” Steve replies, looking right at Mamo. “Like I said, I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that.” He takes a breath. “But yeah, Mamo, if I can save his life by jumping in front of the gun, I’m prepared to do that.”

Mamo nods and sits back in his seat, and nobody else says a word.

-0-

They break not long after; Toast promises to dig up what he can, and Chin and Kono make noises about doing some work on their ends, as well. They plan to meet up at Steve’s house in two weeks, and then they all sign off. Mary leaves with Mamo as soon as the conference ends. Kamekona is the last to leave, and he stands in the living room for a long moment, staring at Steve, before patting him on the shoulder.

“We’ll fix this,” he says, his normal good cheer nowhere to be found. He’s utterly serious, his face as determined as Steve has ever seen it. “Don’t even worry about your haole, brah. The mob ain’t gonna touch him or his.”

“He’s not my anything,” Steve says tiredly. “My responsibility, maybe, but that’s even stretching it a little.”

“Either way,” Kamekona says. He pats Steve on the shoulder again on his way out the door.

Steve sits in the stillness for a moment before reaching for his wallet. He pulls the pristine white business card from behind his driver’s license without looking. He’s glanced at it plenty of times, but he’s never felt the need to actually look at it before now. Slowly, he rubs the pad of his finger across the embossed text on the front of the card. _Special Agent Danny Williams, CID_ , the card tells him. There are two phone numbers below that, one listed as _Office_ and the other as _Mobile Phone_ , but Steve ignores both, flipping the card over instead.

There, in bold pen strokes, is another number. It’s not labeled, not _Home_ or _Fax_ or anything like that, but Steve knows that this is the number he needs right now. He checks his watch; it’s two in the morning, which makes it eight AM in DC.

Steve dials the number into his cell phone. It’s picked up on the third ring with a gruff, “Williams.”

“Special Agent Williams,” Steve drawls into the mouthpiece, leaning back against the couch, “this is Steve McGarrett. How’s your morning going?”


	3. mistakes made

There’s a definite pause before Williams replies. “You know, I had this vague hope in the back of my mind that you’d decide to give yourself up, but it was more like one of those dreams you know you’re never going to see come true than an actual expectation.”

“Dream on,” Steve says. “Look, I need to talk to you. In person, preferably, because I shouldn’t be calling you from my phone right now.”

“What, are you in some kind of trouble?” Williams asks. He sounds wary but willing to listen; at least, that’s what Steve is hoping he’s hearing.

“No,” Steve says, “I’m not.”

“Then what-”

“You are, though,” Steve cuts in. “And it’s really, really not something I want to discuss over the phone.”

There’s another silence over the phone before Williams sighs. “You’re not in the area any more.” It’s a statement of fact, not a question, and Steve is positive that Williams had tracked him at least to Texas, if not all the way to Hawaii.

“No,” Steve replies, “I’m not.”

“You’re not in Dallas, either,” Williams says in the same tone of voice, absolutely sure of what he’s saying.

“My travels have led me out of Dallas, yeah,” Steve says evasively. “Family. You know how it goes.”

Williams snorts. “Right, family. How could I have forgotten?”

“Look,” Steve says, “I’m flying into Reagan National this afternoon at four. I’ll call you once I’m checked in at my hotel, and we can sort out a meeting then, okay? Just-” Steve blows out a breath. “Keep your eyes open until then, okay?”

“Do I need to worry about my family?” Williams asks casually, like this is something he goes through on a daily basis. For all Steve knows, it could be; he can hear the thread of tension in Williams’ voice, though, so he figures differently.

“It might not be a bad idea to let them know that the shit might be about to hit the fan,” Steve says after a moment. “I have no idea if they’re in imminent danger, but better safe than sorry, right?”

“Right,” Williams says. “You know what, I have an idea. I’m driving a black 1967 Chevy Impala. I’ll pick you up from the airport.” He waits a beat, then adds, “You usually fly Continental, right?”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “I’ll see you shortly after four,” he replies before hanging up.

-0-

“So,” Williams says as Steve tosses his bag into the backseat and fastens his seat belt. “What was so urgent that you had to fly five thousand miles to see me?” At Steve’s raised eyebrow, Williams rolls his eyes. “Don’t insult my intelligence by telling me that you were somewhere other than home, McGarrett. I don’t know how you got there, or what name you used, but that’s where you were.”

“I’m going to have to plead the fifth,” Steve says, the barest hint of a smile on his face. “On account of how I was totally in Texas that whole time.”

Williams snorts. “Sure, whatever. Why are you here?”

“I’d really rather wait until we get to the hotel,” Steve says.

“I can handle it,” Williams says dryly. “I’ve gotten my fair share of bad news in the past. I had the Cirgano crime family after me at one point, as you’re no doubt aware. After that shitshow, I can pretty much say that whatever you’re about to tell me isn’t going to faze me.”

Steve resolutely doesn’t say anything, but he slides his eyes over towards Williams just in time to see his fingers tighten on the wheel.

“You know what,” Williams says, “maybe waiting is a good idea. Let’s wait.”

-0-

Williams precedes Steve into the hotel room, eyes flashing around before he nods. “Looks clean,” he reports.

“There’s a reason I didn’t book ahead,” Steve notes. “I’ve played this kind of game before.”

“What game is this, exactly?” Williams asks, spreading his hands wide. “I am getting the impression that you opened some sort of can of worms and promptly dumped it all over me, and now I’m going to have to hide from the birds.”

“That’s a vivid metaphor,” Steve says, blinking. “It’s not entirely inaccurate, come to think of it.”

“That’s not exactly what I was hoping to hear,” Williams says. “Come on, out with it.” He crosses his arms over his chest and looks like he’s about three seconds away from tapping his foot.

“I’d like to extract some sort of promise about you not slugging me in the face,” Steve hedges.

Williams raises an eyebrow. “Just the face? What if I aim elsewhere?”

“I might deserve it,” Steve mutters under his breath. He takes a deep breath. “So I might have unknowingly revealed your whereabouts to the Cirgano family.”

Williams stands stock-still for about five seconds before going gray and slumping into the bed. “Oh, fuck,” he breathes.

“Not that it really makes a difference,” Steve says, “but I honestly did not know that I was doing it at the time, and had I known what bringing Hesse in was going to do, I would never have done it.”

“Which one?” Williams asks, squeezing his eyes shut.

Steve frowns. “Which one what?”

“Hesse, which Hesse,” Williams asks. “There are two of them working for the Cirganos, one slightly more insane than the other. I’d like to know which one is going to show up first.”

“He was going by Victor,” Steve says, “but he made a phone call as soon as we showed him your picture, so the other one might be here, too.”

“Great, the scum-sucking villainy of the Earth are coming to finish me off,” Williams mutters, opening his eyes and looking at Steve. “How long do I have before the hordes descend?”

“I don’t actually know,” Steve admits. “We did our best to get him to leave after he made his little phone call.”

“We, who’s we?” Williams asks.

“Me and my sister,” Steve says uncomfortably.

Williams raises an eyebrow. “The sister you’re not talking to.”

“I said I was visiting family,” Steve defends. “And, well, we’re talking now.”

“I think you should probably start at the beginning,” Williams says. “Try not to leave too much out.”

-0-

There’s dead silence in the room when Steve finishes. He wants to say more, like how he hadn’t meant to sic the mob on Williams and, quite possibly, his family as well, but as soon as Steve thinks it he knows the words won’t be received well. For one, it’s kind of a shitty apology for the whole mess, and for another, he’s pretty sure Williams already gets that fact. Steve knows that Williams is aware of why he left DC in the first place, and the fact that he came back specifically to warn Williams is probably a big enough tip-off.

“So,” Williams says eventually. “Now what?”

“I’ve been thinking-” Steve starts, but Williams holds up a hand.

“Your thinking is what got us here,” he says, and Steve has to wonder why he doesn’t seem angry. He’s more tired, maybe resigned. Based on the man’s behavior during their first meeting, Steve had been expecting a round or two of yelling, and he wouldn’t have been all that surprised if punches had ended up being thrown. Williams lets his hand drop. “So I’m thinking that I need to get in touch with Rachel and get her and Grace into protective custody, and then I need to get off the grid for a while, preferably with backup of some sort.”

“I would assume that he’s probably not your favorite person, but you should probably send Edwards with them,” Steve says. “I’m not familiar with the specific working styles of the Cirgano family, but I’ve been up close and personal with some of the Yakuza in Hawaii, and they’re not picky about who they hurt in order to get to their targets. I can’t imagine that you’d be thrilled if Edwards’ blood was on your hands.”

Williams grimaces. “I’ll let Rachel make that call, thank you. She’ll probably drag him along.” He pauses and climbs to his feet. “Well, McGarrett, thanks for the little ball of sunshine that you’ve dropped in my lap.” He snorts. “Do you want to know the part about this that pisses me off the most? It’s not even the mob, which is just – I know that probably sounds insane, and I’m willing to admit that, yes, they worry me more, but the thing that actually makes me mad in all of this is that when all is said and done, your little ploy to get me off your back is going to work.”

Steve blinks. “I honestly hadn’t even thought of that.”

“That somehow makes it even worse,” Williams says, throwing his hands up and walking to the door. “Well, I’ll track you down again in a year or three when I’ve managed to shake the Cirganos again. Or, you know, you’ll hear about the FBI agent who was found murdered in a hotel room in Iowa, and you’ll shed a tear or two for losing a worthy opponent. It’ll be one or the other, I’m sure. In the meantime, your file will be safe and sound with Art Theft, and you can go on with your merry thieving ways.”

Steve is absolutely certain that he’s never met anyone who talks as much as Williams does, or as expressively. “Look, I can help you-”

“Thanks, I think you’ve done enough already,” Williams replies curtly, and okay, there’s some of the anger that Steve has been looking for. “Seriously, if you want to help, figure out a way to convince the Cirgano family that you were just kidding when you showed them my picture.”

“I really doubt that would work,” Steve says. “I thought-”

“What did I tell you about that?” Williams cuts in, jabbing his hands in Steve’s direction. “Thinking, you, don’t. Say no to thinking, McGarrett.”

Steve shakes his head, but by the time he’s got a reply ready to go, Williams is out the door and down the hallway. Steve just watches him go.

-0-

“Sounds like he doesn’t want your help, brah,” Kamekona says when Steve finishes recounting his meeting with Williams. Steve can see him mixing something as he sits at his table, looking at the computer screen. “Not much you can do if he has his own ideas, right?”

“I could get him to come back with me,” Steve says.

Kamekona raises an eyebrow. “Steve, man, you got enough going on with this guy. You really want to add an abduction charge to all of that?”

“No,” Steve sighs. “It’s just – I know better than to think he’s going to go quietly into hiding, and I know that I can help him out if he lets me.”

“We,” Kamekona corrects, setting his mixing bowl down. “Do I gotta remind you that you ain’t in this alone?”

Steve lets out a breath. “Slip of the tongue.”

The glare Kamekona shoots through the connection says that he’s calling Steve’s bluff, but they both let it go after a moment. “So are you coming home?”

“Yeah,” Steve replies. “I mean, I’ve got the room for a few days, so I’ll stay through my reservation before catching a flight back. Even if he doesn’t want our help outright, I can at least lend some assistance behind the scenes before he goes under.”

“Just don’t get caught,” Kamekona advises, which makes Steve laugh.

“Solid advice, my man,” Steve says, letting some of the tension flow out of his body. “So I guess I’ll-”

There’s a sudden pounding on the door, and Steve whirls around, already feeling for his gun. Kamekona is intent, focused on his screen, whatever he’d been making in the bowl forgotten. “Steve, I’m gonna turn my camera off but stay connected,” he says quietly. “Keep things up on your end, but dim your screen so it’s hard to see, okay, and if it’s trouble I’ll get in touch with someone local to you.”

“Got it,” Steve replies, leaning over the laptop and jabbing at the keyboard. “Screen is dark. Can you hear me?”

“Got you,” Kamekona says. “Mute me out.”

“Done,” Steve says. “Going for the door now.”

Steve stands and makes his way to the door just as the pounding starts up again. He’s reasonably sure that it isn’t Hesse, or really anyone related to the Cirganos; they’d be quieter if they were coming to get rid of him, and he’d been careful to cover his tracks anyway. Steve peers out the peephole in the door and sucks in a breath.

Williams is standing at the door, face red, and he’s muttering under his breath. One hand is knocking over and over at Steve’s door, and the other is holding a wadded-up cloth against his forehead. Steve can see blood seeping around the edges.

“Holy shit,” he says, yanking the door open, “you’ve been gone for four hours, Williams. What the fuck happened to you?”

Williams throws him a look that’s half-irritation and half-exasperation. “I feel like I probably shouldn’t have to give you three guesses on this one, McGarrett.”

“Wow, they move fast,” Steve mutters, shutting the door and locking the deadbolt. It won’t keep anyone out if they’re really determined, but it’s another barrier between them and trouble, so Steve will take it. “I wasn’t expecting much of anything for a few days.”

“I drove straight to Rachel when I left here,” Williams says. “She had Grace and Stan ready to go in less than an hour. I put them on the plane myself, and then headed back to headquarters.” His jaw tightens. “I had a few things to secure before I left town, but when I went out to meet the marshal who was going to escort me to the airstrip, he gave the wrong code word in our conversation. I take it in stride, right, I am a smooth operator, but when I tell him I forgot a vital piece of evidence and have to go back inside for a minute, he pulls on me and starts shooting.” He takes a breath and gestures to his face. “I stop, drop, and roll so hard that I slam my head into the sidewalk; he misses, misses, and misses – seriously, the Cirganos have let their hired muscle slack on the firearms training – and peels away. I get in my car, I wad up a spare shirt to keep the blood out of my eye, and I speed over here, because something is compromised in the state of Quantico if that guy was able to get onto the premises in the first place.”

“That’s a lot of words in very little time,” Steve observes, processing as quickly as he can. “Okay, sit down, let me look at your head.”

“It’s just a scratch,” Williams says impatiently. “Look, this is not my first choice of places to come, okay, but I believed you when you said this wasn’t your idea, so I thought you might know somewhere safe I could lay low for a day or two before getting in touch with someone who can get me out of sight without raising a fuss.”

“I can do that,” Steve says evenly. “In fact, I-”

Williams tenses when Steve’s phone rings. He digs it out of his pocket and glances at the screen, where _Ice Man_ is flashing with a picture of a fruit basket. Kamekona had chosen both the name and the picture himself, and Steve hadn’t asked. He silences the phone and speaks up. “We’re good, brah. Let the others know, okay?”

“What the hell was that?” Williams asks, gingerly lifting the shirt away from his face. “I’m not sure if you realize this, McGarrett, but you silenced the phone. You didn’t pick it up.”

Steve rolls his eyes and walks to the desk, powering the screen back up and turning the sound on. Kamekona hasn’t turned his video feed back on, but the program says that the call is still connected. “Ice Man, you with me?”

“Ho, brah,” Kamekona says, voice neutral. “You want I should round up together with, or you da kine?”

“Da kine, brah,” Steve replies as Williams goes, “Was that English?”

“Call Mary and let her know,” Steve adds. “She’ll do the rest. Meet up in four.”

“Right,” Kamekona replies. “Keep your head, man. Catch you later.”

“And I repeat,” Williams says when Steve shuts the laptop, “was that English?”

Steve makes a teetering motion with his hand. “Mostly.”

“Mostly,” Williams mutters. “Great. Can you translate that into ‘fully’, please?”

“He’s not sending backup in,” Steve says mildly. “And he’s picking us up at the airport in a few days.”

“Wait, airport?” Williams says. “I’m not flying anywhere with you, McGarrett. I came here because I figured that if you had actually wanted to fuck me over, you wouldn’t have waited and had someone else do it, and also, that isn’t your style. I know your style,” he adds. “I have spent time with your file. Stealing things, breaking and entering, a little recreational travelling under a false identity or seven, that’s your cup of tea. Setting a guy up to be murdered because he’s gearing up to be a pain in your ass? Not so much.”

“Look, here’s the short version,” Steve says, shoving the laptop into its bag and throwing his cords in after it. Toast is going to have a fit if he sees it before Steve can at least attempt to wrap them up right, but time’s a little limited at the moment. “I can get you out of here without anyone catching wind. It’ll be like you just up and vanished, and I have a few places I can tuck you away while we figure things out. The sooner we get out of here, the better, and if we hurry, we can get to the airport in time to catch a red-eye to anywhere that isn’t here.”

Williams goggles at him for a few seconds before taking a deep breath. “I have so many questions for you,” he says carefully, “but the one that’s really the most pressing at the moment is this: how, exactly, are you planning out getting me onto a plane without me popping up on the Cirganos’ radar?”

Steve grabs a card out of his wallet and flips it at Williams, who catches it and looks down. There’s clear surprise in his voice when he studies it a little more carefully. “Cole Mitchell from Auburn, Kansas? What the hell is this?”

“That’s your chance to participate in a little recreational travelling under a false identity,” Steve replies. He’s packing the few things that he had taken out of his bag, grateful that he’s never been the type of guy who unpacks everything in a hotel. “We’ll get on the first flight that heads west, and when we get there, we’ll toss that card in the trash and hop on another flight.” He shrugs. “It’s going to be a long day, I can promise you that, but in the end, Daniel Williams will officially still be in DC, and the aliases you used to get out will be scattered across the United States.”

“This is insane,” Williams says, sticking a hand into his hair. “This is just – McGarrett, I’m not running away like this, okay? I’m going back to Quantico, and I’m going to put the Hesse brothers away, and then I’m going to figure out who from the old guard is still around in the Cirganos. I’m going to get my life back.”

“Well, you’re right about that last part, at least,” Steve says. “You said it yourself, Williams: someone leaked your location out of Quantico, or that hit man wouldn’t have been able to get anywhere near you in the first place.” He waits a beat, then adds, “You come with me, we can figure out what’s going on. We can end this. If you go back there, you’re going to end up dead inside of a week. Are you really going to leave your kid without her dad?”

Williams’ eyes flash instantly, and he throws himself off the bed, pointing his finger at Steve’s face. “Do not. You do not get to bring my daughter into this, are we clear?”

“Got it,” Steve replies, swinging his bag onto his shoulder. “Are you ready?”

Williams pinches the bridge of his nose. “Let me clean this up,” he says, gesturing to the cut on his forehead. “Give me five minutes.”

-0-

It takes Williams closer to ten minutes, but by the time he emerges form the bathroom, he looks a lot more put together. The cut on his face is cleaned up, and he's got a determined sort of look in his eyes. "Okay, McGarrett, what's the plan?"

"First, for you to call me Steve," Steve says. "I understand that it's probably not high on your list of things to do, but it'll make this whole thing easier.

"I can do that," Williams says. "You, though, you can still call me Williams."

Steve rolls his eyes. "For the next several hours, I'll be calling you Cole," he reminds Williams, who grimaces.

"Tell me this isn't a real person," Williams says. "I can handle this if I look at it as an undercover assignment, okay, but if this is actual identity theft I'm prepared to put my foot down."

"It's not," Steve assures him. "It's - well. It's kind of a long story, but the short version is that the identity is based on a real person, but that isn't his actual name or address or birthday."

"Someone you know," Williams guesses, narrowing his eyes at Steve.

Steve nods. "Someone I know, and no, you won't get to meet him. Also, stop asking questions, because I'm not giving you information about my associates, got it?"

Williams shrugs. "Can't blame a guy for trying, can you?"

Steve rolls his eyes. "I'll keep that in mind, sure. Look, are you ready to go?"

"I'm ready," Williams says. "Well, I'm almost ready. Where are we going?"

"Charleston, West Virginia," Steve says, shifting his bag on his shoulder. "We’ll drive to Yeager Airport, and we'll take a flight out from there."

Williams screws up his face. "Charleston is, what, six hours from here? There are plenty of airports closer than that."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, we'll be dropping your car at Dulles before we go," Steve says. "From there, though, yeah. It's about six hours. If Hesse is in town, there's a good chance that he'll have eyes on the airports around here, so we're going out under the radar."

"Ah," Williams replies. "That makes sense, I guess. It's just - I thought that we were aiming for speed here. A six-hour drive didn't seem like it would be in the plan."

"We're aiming for getting out alive," Steve corrects him. "That goes for both of us, and that will be a little easier if we don't make targets of ourselves, right?"

Williams cocks his head. "You've done this before.”

"I will neither confirm nor deny that," Steve says. "We can chat on the way. Let's go."

Williams insists on driving, which is fine with Steve. He pulls out his phone and checks the website for Yeager Airport. There are a few flights out around the time they'll be getting into Charleston, and Steve books two tickets on the flight to Chicago. By the time they're pulling into the long-term parking garage at Dulles, Steve has the boarding confirmation slips in his email.

"Park midway up," Steve says absently. "Harder to find your car if it's in the middle."

Williams looks sour. "This would not be the first time in my career that I've had to worry about car bombs, McGarrett. I'm not happy, let me just get that out there."

"I don't really blame you," Steve offers. "Also, names. Mine is Steve, and yours is-"

"Cole, yes, I know." Williams sighs. "Let's get going."

-0-

Steve walks to the Hertz counter and smiles at the woman behind the desk. She looks bored, like she'd rather be anywhere but where she is, but she nods along and rents Steve a compact car without giving him any problems. She hands the key over without a fuss. "Drop the car off when you fly out," she says. "Put the keys in the box at the entrance to the terminal, and we'll take care of the rest."

"Thanks so much," Steve says, taking the key and walking out the door. Williams is leaning against the building, Steve's bag against his legs, and a bag of his own next to that.

("What?" Williams had asked when Steve had raised an eyebrow. "I keep an emergency bag in the trunk, okay, it's for stakeouts and shit, and - you know what, I'm not explaining this to you. Look at it this way: I won't have to borrow clothes from you."

"I doubt that we're the same size anyway," Steve had pointed out, only just not making an overt short joke. Williams had glared.)

"Here," Steve says, tossing the keys to Williams. "Go drop these in the return slot. I'll be right back."

Williams catches the keys one-handed and looks at Steve. "Why?"

"Because we're not taking that car," Steve says by way of explanation, heading back into the rental center. He walks to the Avis counter and rents a different car, this time using one of the identities he'd had Kawika's friend make up for him the week before.

"Here you are, Mr. Angler," the man says, giving Steve a set of keys. "Return the car to any Avis location when you're finished with it."

"Thanks," Steve says with a smile, heading back out the door.

Williams is nowhere to be seen.

Steve takes a deep breath before casually scanning the parking lot. He can see the return slot from here, over on the other side of the parking lot, but Williams isn't there, nor is he anywhere that Steve can see between here and the key return. He's about to call out when Williams pops up from between two cars a few rows away.

"Christ, Cole," Steve calls out, jogging over. "Thought you disappeared on me."

Williams winces. "I'm sure you won't blame me for being slightly paranoid at the moment," he says in a low voice when Steve gets closer. "I saw a blonde guy with Hesse's build heading for the entrance, so I ducked down as quickly as I could."

Steve's heartbeat starts to race. "Was it him?"

"I have no idea, but I'm suggesting we don't wait around to check when he comes back out," Williams says. "Did you get one we can actually drive this time?"

"Yeah, let's get going," Steve says, heading for the car.

Once they're settled inside, Steve behind the wheel, Williams turns to him. "What's with the two cars?"

"Steve McGarrett got a one-day rental on a car. I'm sure he had a lovely day with it, and at the end of that day, he returned it." Steve grins. "Tim Angler rented a car that can be dropped off at any rental center in the country, and he's going to visit his sister in West Virginia. He'll decide to stay a while, so he'll drop the car off at the airport there. No mess, no fuss."

"No trail," Williams adds. "See, this is stuff that I can think up, but not on the fly. I'm going to file this under 'things criminals need to know' and move along."

"Look," Steve sighs, "can we just - drop that? For now? I know it has to be getting under your skin hat I'm the one helping you out right now-"

"-damn _right_ it's bugging me-"

"-but the fact remains that I _am_ helping you, even though it's in my best interests to not," Steve says. "I could have just let the Cirganos come after you, but I flew across the country to warn you. I could have told you to fuck off when you knocked on my hotel room door, but I'm helping you get out of sight. So yes, Williams, I steal things. Your objection is noted. Can we move on?"

There's silence from the passenger's seat. Williams sighs after a minute. "Well, now you've made me feel like an asshole."

"I was kind of aiming for that," Steve replies. "Glad to hear it worked."

"Fine." He seems to deflate a little. "I apologize for acting like an asshole, and I will do my best not to bring it up at every turn. But," he says, pointing a finger in Steve's direction, "I expect a little leniency if it slips out, okay?"

"I can work with that," Steve agrees.

It gets quiet again; Steve would wonder if Williams had fallen asleep, but he can see Williams fiddling with his phone. After about half an hour, he sets it down and sighs. "Where are we?"

"Still in Virginia," Steve replies. "What were you doing with your phone?"

"You're a nosy bastard, aren't you?" Williams says, but there's no heat in it. "I was checking into a hotel in North Carolina for the next week."

"He learns," Steve says approvingly. "Seriously, though, that took you half an hour?"

"Goofy thumbs," Williams mutters. "I suck at phone-related stuff, okay? I'd have one of those little flip-phone things, but Gracie somehow talked me into getting a smart phone so she could download that game with the birds."

"Nice," Steve laughs. "Smart girl. Angry Birds is fun."

"Yeah, well," Williams says. He crosses his arms and glares out the window, and Steve gets the _subject is closed_ vibes loud and clear.

"So, uh," Steve says after a minute, "radio?"

"Absolutely," Williams agrees readily. They spend the next hour and a half being serenaded by the Golden Oldies station.

-0-

"So I had this job once," Steve says at some point after they merge onto the highway in West Virginia. "We were all set up to get a piece from a museum in Monaco-"

"Should you be telling me this?" Williams asks mildly.

Steve shrugs. "I'm not planning on giving you any details, Williams. Well, none that might lead you to connect me to anything or anyone."

"Yeah, I should only be so lucky," Williams replies, as if by default, then scowls. "Sorry."

"This is me, being lenient," Steve says. "Anyway, I'm not working with my usual crew for this one. I got a call from an old buddy of mine, a guy who usually lifts pieces from smaller places, asking if I could do some advising on this job he picked up. He offered to pay for my travel and cut me in on his profits, so it was pretty much a done deal by the time he finished asking."

Steve pauses, but there's no question forthcoming, nothing demanding to know who and when and why. Steve doesn't glance over, because if Williams is actually biting his lip to keep the words in, Steve won't be able to help laughing. "I get on site and look over his plan," he continues. "It's not terrible; I point out the improvements that I would make, he changes some of the details, and we work out timing and positioning and everything else that goes into the planning."

"If this ends with you and your buddy traipsing through the streets of Monaco with whatever it is that you stole like it's a trophy, I don't want to hear the rest," Williams cuts in.

"No victory marches," Steve promises. "We decide to nick it in the middle of the day - the security in this place during the day is a joke, but it's much more stringent at night. So we get a guy in place to be a distraction, he and I set up in our positions, and we order radio silence. We have eight minutes from the time we cut off communication to when the distraction is set to start, so he and I poke around in the room, acting like tourists."

"This is enlightening," Williams observes. "I feel like I'm getting an all-access pass to thief school or something."

"They wouldn't let you in the door of thief school, mostly because you just called it 'thief school'," Steve informs him. "Can I tell my story?"

"By all means," Williams says, gesturing grandly. "I didn't realize that this was the type of story that didn't allow for commenting. I'll just listen. Got it." He folds his hands primly in his lap and turns to Steve.

"Funny," Steve says. "Really, I'm amused. Anyway, our eight minutes passes, and - nothing. We don't hear anything from the lobby area, the guard in the room doesn't rush out, there's nothing. We wait around for another few minutes, but by that point, it's clear that something has gone haywire, so we head back out." He pauses. "We get to the lobby, and our distraction specialist is sitting on a bench next to the fountain-"

"Tell me he got distracted by some hot chick and forgot to do his own distraction," Williams says gleefully. "That would be ironic."

"Nuns," Steve replies.

There's a beat of silence, then: "Nuns?"

"Nuns," Steve confirms. "There was some sort of tour going on from a local church, and there were about twenty nuns milling around in the lobby. The guy we left to raise a fuss looked pretty lost, sitting there next to a nun who was telling him about the new addition they were putting on the church, and was he Catholic, did he believe, what did he do for a living?"

The silence is much shorter this time. Williams snorts, and when Steve risks a glance, it looks like he's barely holding in the laughter.

"How do you plan for a museum full of nuns?" Steve adds, and Williams loses it, laughing in the passenger's seat. His whole face changes when he laughs, Steve notes; his eyes crinkle up, and his whole face brightens. He shakes his head after a moment and looks at Steve with a grin.

"So, what, you grab the guy and make for the hills?"

"Nah," Steve says. "We left him there and headed back to the apartment we were renting."

Williams breaks into laughter again.

-0-

"So Grace said she wants a pony for her birthday," Williams says when their latest radio station cuts out. Steve reaches for the console and turns the volume down. "I mean, I know, little girls and ponies, I was bound to hear it at some point. The thing about it is, though, that her mother's new husband lives on this estate." His hands sketch out his words as he speaks, and Steve splits his attention between the road and the way Williams is speaking. "There is an actual stable on said estate, and there are already horses in that stable."

"So you can't use the usual arguments," Steve nods. "Where would you keep it, how would you feed it, not as applicable when it would just be one more."

"Exactly," Williams nods. "So I'm stuck here, because normally I'd tell her to ask her mother, except I'm afraid that Stan will overhear her and get her one anyway. Rachel has a solid head on her shoulders, and there's no way she'd approve that as a birthday gift, but Stan?" Williams shrugs. "I don't dislike the guy because he married my ex. I dislike him because he's trying to buy my kid off with expensive crap that she doesn't need."

"I'm sure she isn't going for it," Steve ventures.

"Nah," Williams says, smiling. "Gracie's a smart girl. She knows that I'm her dad, and that I'm not going anywhere. Stan can try, but he'll never be her father."

"Good," Steve says. He means it, too; it's not like he's planning on having kids, but he can't imagine what it would be like to lose one because you didn't have as much money as her new stepfather. "What's she like?"

"Smart," Williams repeats immediately. "She's funny and sweet, and she's got a heart that's too big for her body. She loves everyone and everything, which would be great, except I'm an FBI agent and I was a cop before that." He spreads his hands wide. "Our current situation explains why I sometimes do not like this facet of my daughter."

"Understandable," Steve agrees. He hesitates before asking, "Your ex?"

Williams shrugs. "Rachel is good people. She and I met when I was on the force in Newark, back in my rookie days. She rear-ended me, I gave her driving lessons instead of a ticket, and we ended up fooling around a few times. She tells me she's pregnant, we rush off and get married..." He trails off and shrugs. "We make better friends than anything else. So, yeah, she and I are proof that you can be friends with your ex."

"That's not a bad deal," Steve says. "And, hey, you got your kid out of it, so that sweetens the pot, right?"

"It does at that," Williams says, half-smiling as if he's not aware he's doing it. "She was excited when I was putting her on the plane earlier, told me that Rachel was letting her pick her own identity while they were in hiding."

"What did she pick?" Steve asks, signalling for their exit and switching lanes. Williams doesn't reply, and when Steve glances over, he's lost the smile.

"I don't know," he says. "The less I know about her, about them, the less I can give up if I end up having it beaten out of me. I don't know where they are, what they're doing, what names they're using." He presses his lips together tightly.

"I'm sorry," Steve says after a moment. They fall silent again, and after a minute, Williams turns the radio back up and adjusts the tuner.

-0-

Charleston looks gritty and tired in the pre-dawn light. Steve can sympathize; it’s been a long day, and it’s not like yesterday had been any better. He pulls the car into a slot in the Avis parking lot and reaches over to shake Williams awake. “Hey, man, rise and shine.”

“I’m not asleep,” Williams says, batting Steve’s hand away. “I’m resting my eyes. I am fully awake.”

“Sure, if it makes you feel better,” Steve replies. “Never met a guy who snored while he was awake before, though. That’s cool.”

“I wasn’t snoring,” Williams says, “because I was not asleep. Get over it.” He finally opens his eyes and glances around. “So this is Charleston, huh?”

“Welcome to, and goodbye from,” Steve says. “From here until Chicago, you’re Cole Mitchell, and I’m Brad Morris.”

“Brad Morris,” Williams repeats. “What happens in Chicago?”

Steve shrugs. “At that point, I’ve got a handful more for you to choose from, and Cole Mitchell will retire for the time being.”

“There’s a part of me that can’t believe you went to DC with all of this set in motion,” Williams says after a moment. “You got false identities set up for me, you’ve got plane tickets, you’ve got this plan.”

“I’m flying by the seat of my pants,” Steve admits. “The identities were kind of a lucky break, actually. I was setting up a few new ones for myself, and I just had to get in touch with my guy and have him adjust a few of the details last-minute so they’d work for you. I bought the plane tickets on the drive to Dulles.”

“I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or worse about this whole adventure,” Williams replies. “I’m going to settle for cautiously optimistic, how’s that sound?”

“Like too many syllables for ‘confident’,” Steve replies, opening his door. “Come on, Cole, let’s not miss our flight.”

“We’re not going to miss our flight, Brad,” Williams says, meeting Steve near the trunk and grabbing his bag out of Steve’s hand. “How long do we have?”

“It starts boarding in about twenty minutes,” Steve says, already heading for the entrance. He drops the car keys in the return box and walks inside. “We should get moving.”

Williams follows quickly. “Good thing there wasn’t any traffic,” he says sarcastically. “I mean, not that there’s not plenty of extra time built into our schedule here. I could have used a little more excitement in my day.”

“Shut up and walk faster,” Steve advises, lengthening his stride and managing to keep his smirk contained when Williams has to jog lightly to keep up.

Checking in is simple; there aren’t that many people in the airport, and it’s not a packed flight. They breeze through security and sit in the waiting area with an older couple who strike up a conversation after a few minutes.

“So, why are you heading to Chicago?” the woman asks. Steve opens his mouth to answer, something about a business trip or a college reunion, but Williams beats him to it.

“Brad and I are headed up to see his parents,” he says with a smile. “I asked him to marry me, and he wants to tell them in person.” He grabs Steve’s hand and squeezes it, maybe a little harder than is strictly necessary, and there’s no mistaking the amusement in his eyes when he glances over.

“Yeah,” Steve says after a pause that he hopes the other couple doesn’t notice. He turns his hand so he can squeeze back and pastes a smile on his face. “It’s big news, you know?”

“Oh, that’s lovely,” the woman says, a delighted smile breaking out on her face. “Gary, isn’t that lovely?”

“Lovely, Audrey,” the man replies, peering at them over the top of his newspaper. “Best of luck, boys. Marriage isn’t easy.”

“We’ve been together for years,” Williams goes on, completely ignoring Steve. “It’s really only a piece of paper at this point, but Brad’s sentimental like that, aren’t you, babe?” He turns back to Steve, looking like he’s about four words away from laughing hysterically.

Steve smiles back at him. “You know it’s important to me, Cole,” he agrees and, before he can talk himself out of it, leans in and kisses Williams on the temple.

“I’m so happy for you,” Audrey beams as Williams freezes completely beneath Steve’s lips. Steve pulls back and squeezes Williams’ hand hard. “Well, we wish you the best, don’t we, Gary?”

“The best,” Gary repeats. “You’ll need it.”

“Thanks,” Williams manages, now holding Steve’s hand in some sort of death grip. “We appreciate it.”

Audrey smiles and nods, but before she can say anything else, the flight attendant starts calling them to board.

-0-

“Issues, so many issues, oh my God,” Williams is muttering as he and Steve settle into their seats. “What the fuck would posses you to-”

“Me?” Steve asks, indignant. “You’re the one who told them we were engaged!”

“I was trying to unsettle you a little, you ass,” Williams whispers furiously. “I was not playing gay chicken with you, okay, there was no need to step up the game-”

Steve snorts. “Please tell me you did not just use the term ‘gay chicken’ seriously,” he says. “Please tell me that I imagined that.”

“Either way, that was-”

“Me playing a game that you started,” Steve says. “Also, if we were playing gay chicken, as you so eloquently put it, you’d lose.” Williams narrows his eyes, but before he can spit out a reply, Steve adds, “The last time I gave a guy a kiss that chaste, I was in high school.”

Williams shuts his mouth and leans back into his seat. Neither of them says another word until they land in Chicago.

-0-

“Okay, so that was not my brightest idea,” Williams says as they’re walking through O’Hare airport. Audrey and Gary had once again wished them luck before vanishing into the crowd, and Steve had steered them towards the exit with a hand in the small of Williams’ back. Now they’re heading for the out of the airport, on their way to a hotel to crash for a few hours before their next flight.

“Is that an apology, or are you just commenting?” Steve asks, scanning the curb for a hotel shuttle. The one they need is just pulling away. Steve frowns and leads Williams down to the end of the line of shuttles; a sign on the wall says that another will be there in seven to ten minutes. “My reply to that comment really depends on what it was intended to be.”

“It was a comment,” Williams grits out. “I was distracting myself from the fact that there’s a hit out on me right now, okay, and it got out of hand. I’m not sorry that I wanted to get my mind off of the shitty situation I’ve found myself in. Is that okay with you?”

Steve shrugs. “I’ve already made you feel like an asshole once tonight. You have to stop giving me openings, Mitchell.”

Williams scowls. “Yeah, well, stop giving me reasons,” he snaps, then shakes his head and rubs at his forehead. “That didn’t even make sense, did it?”

“Not really,” Steve says, amused.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, watching the shuttles pass. Williams jerks his chin after a while, and Steve sees their shuttle approaching. Williams takes a step closer to Steve and leans in just as Steve leans down to grab his bag; he’s not sure if Williams means to do it, but his lips graze Steve’s ear as he speaks. “Just so we’re clear, babe, I wouldn’t _lose_.”

Steve watches as Williams walks away, stepping onto the shuttle and greeting the driver. Steve scrambles after him, slumping into the bench seat beside Williams, touching him probably a little more than is strictly polite. “So are you saying I should get a room with only one bed?” he asks, trying to regain the upper hand in whatever this is they’re doing.

Williams just smirks. “Not tonight, dear, I have a headache.”

Steve decides that it’s probably in his best interest if he lets this round go to Williams.

-0-

“Oh my God, I have never seen a more heavenly bed in my life,” Williams says as soon as the door opens. He beelines for the nearest bed and dumps his bag on the floor before flopping across the mattress. It’s covered in a gaudy yellow-and-orange striped monstrosity, but Steve is tired enough to agree with Williams on this one.

“We’re checking out in ten hours,” Steve says, locking the door behind them. He does the security chain up, too, and sticks the desk chair beneath the handle. Williams doesn’t even budge as Steve walks past him and slings his bag to the floor. “I’m setting my alarm for six hours so I can grab a shower and get in touch with some people before we head out.”

“Shower,” Williams moans. “God, this is getting better and better.”

“I’ll wake you in plenty of time to shower,” Steve promises dryly, pulling the heavy curtain shut. The room is plunged into near-total darkness; only the light in the bathroom keeps Steve from walking into something on his way back to the bed. “Are you even going to take your shoes off?”

“Mmm,” Williams replies. He toes at his shoes until they fall to the floor and takes a deep breath before sitting up with a groan. “Is it going to be weird if I sleep in my boxers?”

Steve snorts. “What, you don’t keep spare pajamas in your magic overnight bag? No,” he adds when Williams frowns at him. “If you want to borrow a pair of sweats, I have extra, but I really don’t care if you sleep in your boxers.”

“Good,” Williams says, heading for the bathroom. He emerges a few minutes later in boxers and a tee and climbs beneath the sheets. Steve takes his turn in the bathroom, and when he gets back into the main room, Williams is curled around one of the bed’s big pillows, his head square in the middle of the other.

Steve laughs softly before switching the light off and crawling into his own bed. “Sleep well, Williams,” he says quietly.

There’s silence for long enough for Steve to think that Williams really had drifted off while Steve was in the bathroom. Then, just as Steve is about to turn over and settle in, his voice drifts through the darkness. “I’m pretty sure that after the day we’ve had, you can probably just call me Danny.”

Steve smiles. “Goodnight, Danny.”

“‘Night, Steve.”

-0-

The alarm goes off far earlier than Steve wants it to, but he drags himself up anyway. Danny sits half-up in his bed as Steve slips out from beneath the covers.

“I’m hitting the shower,” Steve tells him. “Go back to sleep.”

“’kay,” Danny mumbles. Steve is pretty sure he’s asleep before Steve makes it the three steps to the bathroom door.

The shower does him a world of good, and Steve feels a lot better after he’s clean and shaven. He sets up his laptop in the far corner of the room and cracks the curtain, letting in just enough light to make working comfortable. Danny doesn’t stir.

Steve pulls his wireless card out of the laptop case and sticks it in the USB slot; the last thing he wants to do it leave some sort of trace on the hotel’s wireless system. He pulls up his email and shoots a quick message to his team; it’s not even seven in the morning in Hawaii, so he’s not expecting anything for a while.

He’s looking at flight schedules when his email pings, showing a message from Chin. Steve scans it quickly, then opens his chat program and finds Chin.

 **hey, man. we’re safe in chicago for the time being, heading out in a few hours.**

 **Good to hear** , Chin replies. **What’s your itinerary looking like?**

 **working that out now** , Steve types. **we need a few more stops between here and home. i’m thinking atlanta next, then somewhere else midwest, then west coast.**

There’s a pause before Chin replies. **That’s a lot of stops, boss. Everything okay?**

 **precaution** , Steve says quickly. **they already tried to get to danny in dc. he’s okay, but i don’t really want to take any chances.**

 **Probably a good idea** , Chin says. **Anything we can do from here?**

Steve pauses to think. **just keep your ears open** , he finally says. **let me know if you hear anything i should know about.**

 **Got it** , Chin replies. **Good luck, boss. I’ll pass the word along.**

 **talk to you later** , Steve types before signing off.

There’s still some time before he has to wake Danny, so when Steve finishes booking their flights, he considers the man in the bed. Danny is compact but clearly fit, and he’s tough. He’d make a good addition to Steve’s crew, but Steve doesn’t kid himself into thinking that it would ever happen.

Apparently his reaction when Steve had kissed him had been in surprise, not anger. It’s an interesting thing to note, and Steve looks Danny over again, noting this time the laugh lines around his eyes, the shape of his shoulders, his long fingers. Yeah, Steve decides, Danny is a very attractive guy.

It’s further confirmed when Danny blinks his eyes open and he smiles sleepily. “Time to get up?” he asks, turning onto his back and stretching. Steve winces as he hears Danny’s spine crack.

“It’s about that time, yeah,” Steve replies. His voice is lower than he’d intended, but Danny doesn’t seem to notice as he rolls out of bed and pads to the bathroom.

This, Steve realizes, could end up being a problem. He puts a firm lid on any and all attraction he might be feeling and turns back to his laptop.

-0-

The issue is that attraction doesn’t go away just because you want it to.

Danny comes out of the bathroom freshly showered and wrapped in a towel, and he grins at Steve as he grabs his bag and ducks back in. He doesn’t close the door all the way; in fact, he doesn’t even pretend to close it, and Steve is sure that if he just leaned over a little, he’d be able to see Danny in the mirror. It’s only through supreme effort on his part that Steve resists.

“So,” Danny says as he emerges, still toweling his hair, “what’s the plan for this afternoon?”

“We’ve got three hours before our flight,” Steve says, reaching for his laptop and bringing up the reservation he’d made. He spins it around so Danny can see as he rummages in his bag. “Darren Ryder and Paul Guse, flight to Atlanta leaves at six.”

“Time to eat before we get on the plane,” Danny observes, tossing the towel towards Steve’s bed and running his fingers through his hair. “Who’s Paul and who’s Darren?”

Steve hands him Darren’s passport, which he’d managed to locate in his bag. “We’ll switch again in Atlanta,” he says. “I’ve got enough to last us until we get back to Hawaii, but we’ll need to set up an appointment with my guy when we get back. We’re using all of the ones I had made up for you.”

Danny raises an eyebrow. “And how many is that?”

“Five,” Steve replies. “Like I said, though, you’ll need one for while we’re on the island.”

Danny tilts his head. “I know how much a set of papers runs, McGarrett,” he says evenly. “You’ve had five made for me already, and you’re doing up another?”

Steve shrugs. “It’s not like I don’t have the money,” he points out.

Danny just snorts, but he pockets the identity of Darren Ryder, so Steve grins in response.

-0-

Dinner is nothing big; they grab sandwiches in a sub shop in the airport. They’re at the gate nearly an hour and a half early, and this time, they manage not to draw the attention of anyone, so they don’t have to come up with a cover story. Danny smirks when Steve mentions it.

“We can always just out ourselves to the next people who walk down the aisle,” he says, resting his hand just above Steve’s knee. Steve bats his hand away and buckles his seat belt.

“Keep it up, Darren,” Steve says sweetly, “and you’re going to get more than you bargained for.”

Danny’s smile widens. “Who says that’s not what I’m bargaining for?”

Steve spends nearly the entire two-hour flight telling himself that Danny is flirting to distract himself, and that having some sort of fling with an FBI agent who’s dead-set on throwing him in jail at some point in the future is a bad idea. He’s almost got himself convinced by the time they land, which is, of course, when Danny leans over and squeezes his thigh.

“I might have changed my mind about that one-bed thing,” he murmurs. “I’m game if you’re game.”

Steve has to spend an uncomfortable moment discreetly rearranging his pants before following Danny off the plane. Danny’s smirk is a constant fixture on his face throughout the airport, and by the time the shuttle is puling up outside the hotel, Steve has almost completely changed his mind about Danny’s intentions. He tugs on Danny’s arm before they walk into the lobby and Danny stops, smirk still firmly in place.

“Are you actually looking for that kind of distraction, or is playing around distraction enough on its own?” he asks quietly, meeting Danny’s eyes dead-on.

Danny takes a step closer, which really isn’t necessary; they were already almost touching, and now there’s practically no space between them at all. He reaches up to cup his hand around the back of Steve’s neck and pulls down until their lips are barely brushing.

“I will gladly take any sort of distraction you’re willing to provide,” he breathes, and then his lips are pressing against Steve’s more firmly. Before Steve can respond, Danny is pulling back and walking past him into the lobby.

“Well, okay then,” Steve says, watching as Danny stops by the elevator and turns, looking back out at Steve. He raises an eyebrow and looks at his watch, and Steve takes that as his cue to walk to the check-in counter and take care of things as quickly as he can.

Danny stands near him on the elevator but not as closely as Steve was expecting; it’s almost like he’s waiting for something. Steve isn’t sure what that could be until he slides the keycard into the lock and pushes the door open. As soon as Danny steps inside, he says, “Oh, thank God,” and then Steve is being pushed up against the back of the door. Danny’s lips are on his, wild and insistent, and Steve pushes one hand into Danny’s hair and grabs at his ass with the other. Danny makes a harsh sound into Steve’s mouth and grinds against his thigh, and that’s it, this needs to move to the bed right the fuck now.

Steve doesn’t pull his head back; he takes a step into Danny, and Danny takes a step back. His hand delves into the top of Steve’s cargoes and into his boxers, and he’s kneading Steve’s ass as Steve tries to move them another step towards the bed.

Danny breaks the kiss but doesn’t move away. “Going somewhere?”

“Bed,” Steve says firmly. “I don’t know how you feel about this plan, but I’d like to get your dick in my mouth as soon as I can, and that seems like the best place to do it.”

Danny nods firmly. “I can get on board with that plan,” he agrees, and now he’s the one tugging Steve towards the bed. They stop at the edge of the bed and strip almost frantically, tossing clothing in every direction. Steve shoves Danny onto the bed when he finishes stepping out of his boxers; Danny still has his pants tangled around his feet, and he starts to protest, but apparently changes his mind when Steve wraps his lips around Danny’s dick.

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighs, sinking his fingers into Steve’s hair. There isn’t much to hold onto, but he manages to grab on, and Steve looks up and meets Danny’s eyes. He slowly sinks his mouth down as far as he can, until he can feel the head of Danny’s dick against the back of his throat. He’s swallowing almost convulsively, and Danny lets out a long, drawn-out groan when Steve pulls back and immediately dives back down. He taps Danny’s hip with his hand, pulling back and waiting. It takes a few seconds for Danny to catch on, and when he does, he lets out a low sound as he rolls his hips up tentatively. Steve lets his hands drop to Danny’s thighs, and he closes his eyes and concentrates on suction and pressure and friction as Danny fucks into his mouth.

Steve takes his own cock in hand when Danny picks up the pace, tilting Steve’s head back a little and arching his back slightly. Steve sucks harder when Danny pulls almost all the way out, opening his eyes to look up at Danny. “I’m-” Danny pants, eyes wide and dark, and Steve pushes his head back down and swallows for all he’s worth when Danny stutters out a few meaningless sounds and comes. Steve finally lets Danny’s dick out of his mouth when Danny lets his hands fall to the mattress, and he’s panting when he leans back, stroking his cock quickly. He’s almost there when Danny opens his eyes, a satisfied little smile on his face, and when he lifts a hand to rub along the inside of Steve’s thigh, Steve sucks in a breath and spills over his hand and on Danny’s thigh.

“Nice,” Danny grumbles, but he’s still smiling, and he doesn’t sound particularly upset. “That one’s on you to clean up, buddy.”

Steve shrugs and leans in, mouthing along Danny’s thigh until there’s no trace of come left. When he flicks his eyes up, he meets Danny’s dark gaze with a grin.

“You are trying to kill me,” Danny says. “Christ, if this were ten years ago, I’d be hard again.”

“Take a nap,” Steve suggests, pressing a kiss to Danny’s hip. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be ready again whenever you are.”

“This is by far the best plan either of us has had in the past few weeks,” Danny says, sounding half-asleep already. “So here’s a question: do you usually top or bottom?”

“Um,” Steve responds as he curls up next to Danny. “I’ll do either, really. I’m a fan of sex however it happens.”

“Oh, good,” Danny says contentedly. “Because I have been fantasizing about the things I want to do to that ass of yours since we met, but right now I’m thinking I’d really like to get your cock inside me when we wake up.”

“Holy shit,” Steve says, eyes wide. His dick is making a valiant effort to harden again, but when he glances from his crotch to Danny’s face, he sees that it’s evened out in sleep. Steve breathes out hard and closes his eyes as well, but he doubts he’ll be able to fall asleep, not with the mental images that Danny had painted crowding together in his head.

-0-

Steve wakes to a mouth on his cock, and he groans and thrusts up a little before he opens his eyes. Danny’s hand lands on his hip and pins him to the bed, and Danny meets his eyes with a grin as Steve looks down.

“Don’t pout, babe, it’s not a good look on you,” he advises, and either he’s just woken up or he’s been at this for longer than Steve has been aware, because his voice is pretty rough around the edges. Given how hard Steve is, he’s leaning towards the second.

“Good morning,” Steve rasps out, reaching down to tangle his fingers in Danny’s hair. “And how was your nap?”

“Good,” Danny replies, settling his chin on Steve’s hip. “I’ve been up for a while, though, so unless you have some sort of objection, can we get on with this?"

"Um," Steve says, "sure?"

"Oh, good, I'm glad you're on board," Danny snorts, and then he wraps his fingers around Steve's dick and pumps a few times. "I'm really hoping that you have a condom and some lube stashed somewhere in that bag with all those false identities. I mean, I'll make do if you don't, but-"

"Zip pocket on the outside," Steve cuts in. Danny squeezes Steve's cock again before leaning over the side of the bed and grabbing Steve's bag. He's got a condom and the lube out in seconds, and he wastes no time in rolling the condom onto Steve. He tosses the lube onto Steve's chest and sprawls out on his stomach next to Steve.

"I'd offer you an engraved invitation, but I left them all in DC," Danny says after a few seconds, turning his face to raise an eyebrow at Steve. "Do you need some sort of instruction manual? I'm sorry, you made it sound like you'd done this before."

"Fuck you," Steve says, rolling over and settling himself between Danny's spread thighs.

"That's that point, yeah - oh," he sighs as Steve presses a finger into him. "Fair warning, it's been a while. I'll go ahead and ask you to please take your time with this part. Pain isn't really my thing."

Steve grunts and moves his finger slowly, stretching Danny open bit by bit. He adds another, kissing Danny's thigh when he hisses. He moves his fingers in and out, scissoring them as he goes, and it isn't long before Danny is pushing back against him. Steve adds a third finger and crooks it inside Danny’s body, and Danny shudders beneath him. "Good?" Steve asks.

"I'm enjoying it so far," Danny says, and then lets out a low moan as Steve bends his fingers again. "Yeah, that's good."

Steve works him for a while, sliding in and out and grazing over Danny's prostate every few strokes. He feels like he could probably get Danny there from just this, but before he can test that theory, Danny's voice drifts down from the head of the bed. "I know I asked you to go slowly with the prep, but enough is enough, babe."

"Impatient much?" Steve asks, but he presses a kiss to the curve of Danny's ass and pulls his fingers out. Danny raises himself up onto his hands and knees as Steve coats his cock with lube, and then he's lining up and sinking into Danny, warm and tight and clenching around him.

"Breathe," Steve pants as Danny hisses and tenses when Steve's about halfway in. "Come on, Danny, breathe, okay?"

"Yeah, got it," Danny mutters, making a visible effort to relax. "Just - slowly."

"Tell me when," Steve says, rubbing his thumb in circles against Danny's hip. Danny nods after a moment, and Steve pushes forward again, going slowly until he's leaning fully over Danny's back, buried inside him. Danny groans as Steve circles his hips a little, and Steve hides his grin in the crook of Danny's shoulder.

"Would you-" Danny says a few seconds later, and Steve pulls out and thrusts back in. Danny's head drops towards the bed, and Steve thrusts again, settling himself into an easy, steady pace. One of his hands wanders around Danny's front, tweaking a nipple before moving down and wrapping around Danny's dick. He's not really trying to get either of them off at this point, just mindlessly enjoying himself, and trying to make sure Danny does the same; he’s going to get them both there eventually, but the raw desperate need from before has died off. His fist is curled loosely around Danny's cock, and he's not moving his hand so much as he is letting the motion of their hips move Danny through his fingers. Danny sighs and adjusts his position so he can lean down into the bed, and Steve fucks him through it.

It's a while before Steve feels the need to speed up, but eventually he starts thrusting with intent, curving his fingers more tightly around Danny's cock and jerking in time with his thrusts. Danny is talking, muttering things into the bed that Steve can’t make out, so he leans forward and mouths his way across Danny’s broad shoulders, nipping lightly and sucking at the point where his shoulder meets his neck. Danny moans andpushes his hips up to meet Steve's thrusts, and it spirals quickly from there. Danny comes first, breathing harshly as Steve pulls every last spasm from him, and Steve closes his eyes and follows not long after, doing his best not to just slump down and cover Danny when he finishes. He manages to fall to Danny's side, and he immediately reaches to tug Danny in against him. Danny rolls in immediately, and Steve knows that this is going to be disgusting before too long, Danny half in the wet spot and him with the condom still on, but it's nice to just lay still for a moment.

"I'm really enjoying this distraction," Danny says against Steve's chest, and Steve laughs into Danny's hair.

"Mission accomplished," he replies, and Danny laughs right back.

-0-

They clean up and leave the hotel a few hours later, freshly showered and standing much more closely together than they had been before. Steve resists the urge to lead Danny around with a hand on his shoulder or in the small of his back, but Danny doesn't hesitate to put his hands all over Steve - a touch to get his attention, an absent caress of his arm, bumping their arms together while they're standing in line at the airport check-in counter. He jerks his chin towards the departure board. "Why did we get here so early?"

Steve grins as he leans in. "Because if we had stayed at the hotel for much longer, I was going to make us late."

Danny snorts and elbows Steve gently. "You're not smooth. You know that, right?"

Steve grins and doesn't reply. Danny opens his mouth, no doubt ready to make some smartass reply, when he freezes completely. It’s only for a second, if that, but then he jerks and grabs Steve’s biceps, pulling him out of the line and towards a corner. Steve spreads his frame as much as he can without drawing attention to himself. “What did you see?”

“I – I can’t be sure,” Danny says, taking a quick glance around Steve’s arm, “but I think I might have seen Koji Noshimuri.” At Steve’s little shake of the head, he adds, “He’s involved in Hesse’s operation.”

Steve swears and starts digging through his pockets. “I don’t even want to know how he found you,” he mutters, locating his phone and shoving it into Danny’s hand. “Give me your phone.”

“Babe, I’m not even sure it was him,” Danny says, digging his phone out of his pocket and handing it to Steve. Steve promptly takes the battery out and pockets it; his next step will be tossing the thing in the nearest garbage can. “Let me just-”

“No,” Steve says firmly. “If it’s him, we’ve got a better chance if he doesn’t make you this early in the game. If it’s not, well, better safe than sorry.”

Danny closes his eyes and nods once. “What’s the plan?”

Steve pulls his wallet out and rifles through it, puling a few things out and handing them to Danny. “Ditch the identification you have,” he says. “Use any one of these and pick a flight, any flight, as long as it’s west of here. Don’t tell me,” he adds when Danny opens his mouth. “Keep that phone on, and keep it with you. I can track you wherever you are as long as it’s on.”

“Creepy,” Danny says, but his hands are closed around the identifications and credit cards that Steve had handed him. “Where are you going?”

Steve grins. “Iowa, as planned. He wants to follow someone there, he can follow me.”

“Don’t you get hurt for me,” Danny hisses.

“I won’t,” Steve replies evenly. “Seriously, did you think that any of the places we were headed are places where I didn’t have backup I could call?”

Danny snaps his mouth shut for a minute before he sighs. “How long will you be?”

“If I’m not where you are in thirty-six hours,” Steve says, motioning to his phone, “look up Ice Man in my contacts. When he answers, tell him you’re coming in with fresh pickles, and get on the next flight to Honolulu. Give him the details, and he’ll make sure you’re safe.”

Danny’s lips tighten; he clearly doesn’t like the idea, but Steve doesn’t have time to come up with anything better. He’s not sure he could have, anyway. “Look, I don’t love it,” he says after a moment. “You got anything better?”

“I don’t see why you have to go to Iowa,” Danny mutters. “If it is Noshimuri, and he is headed to Iowa, it seems like the safest thing would be for neither of us to be there.”

“Laying the trail,” Steve reminds him. “Don’t worry, okay? I’ll be fine. I’ll be knocking on your hotel door in a day or so.”

Danny’s expression softens the slightest bit. “Still creepy,” he says, but there’s the ghost of a smile on his lips as he says it. “Thirty-six hours?”

“At the most,” Steve says. “Probably less, but if I’m not there by that point-”

“Ice Man, got it,” Danny says, gesturing with the phone.

“Don’t answer it unless it’s a call from him, either,” Steve says. “There are a lot of people who would find it very interesting that you have my phone.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking that would be bad for both of us,” Danny nods. He hesitates, looking over Steve’s shoulder again. “I don’t see him. I should go get back in line.”

“Good idea,” Steve agrees, turning to let Danny slip past him. As he does, though, Danny grabs him by the shirt and hauls him down, kissing him fiercely.

“See you tomorrow,” he says, and then he’s slipping past Steve and heading to the ticket counter.

Steve forces himself to watch the crowd, scanning for anything or anyone that might be out of place instead of tracking Danny’s progress. By the time he turns to look at the counter, Danny’s gone.

-0-

Steve puts his back to the wall in the waiting area and hooks up his laptop. Toast is online when he brings up his chat program, and Steve immediately starts typing.

 **need you to look something up for me, man.**

 **sure thing, boss** , Toast types back. **what are you looking for?**

 **information.** Steve gives Toast Koji Noshimuri's name, and Toast has a photo and a basic profile up within three minutes. Steve studies the picture carefully and then scans the rest of the waiting area, searching for Noshimuri's face. Nothing pops out, but Steve would have been surprised if he'd been able to spot Noshimuri this early on. According to Danny's quick explanation, he's in bed with Hesse; Toast's information lists him as a longtime hit man. Someone like that would be good at disguising himself, hiding out of sight until he can put whatever plan he has into action.

 **send me whatever you can find on this guy** , Steve tells Toast. **he's a potential problem at the moment, and i need to know what we're up against here.**

 **you're doing the bait thing, aren't you?** Toast asks. **I won't tell kono, I promise.**

 **good man, toast** , Steve types back. **i'm gonna see if i can find him. see what you can dig up. i'd love to get some deeper info, some associates, that kind of thing.**

 **will do** , Toast replies. **you want it in email?**

Steve hesitates. **i gave danny my phone. don't call him, it'll only freak him out.**

Toast doesn't reply for a moment. **your call, bossman. I'll email you whatever I find.**

 **thanks** , Steve replies. He shuts his computer down and packs it back into his bag, then stands and stretches. He approaches the desk in the waiting area and smiles sunnily at the flight attendant, who stares back at him with a sour look.

"Where's the nearest men's room?" he asks, and the woman points down the hallway, back towards where Steve had come from. Steve thanks her and heads back that way.

He keeps his eyes open as he walks, trying to pick out anyone who might be following him as he goes. He doesn't catch anything, nor does he register the sound of anyone following him into the deserted men's room. Either Koji Noshimuri is being extremely cautious, or Danny was mistaken.

There's also the option that Noshimuri is following Danny, but Steve firmly doesn't think about that.

The flight is uneventful; Steve is one of the first to board, and he watches the incoming passengers carefully. He doesn't see Noshimuri get on the plane, and he's vaguely unsettled for some reason; he'd almost rather the man be on board than not, because if Steve can see him, that means that Noshimuri can't see Danny. At this point, he could be anywhere. Steve tries not to think about it on the flight to Des Moines, but he doesn't really succeed. It's a long two hours, and Steve is wired by the time the _fasten seatbelts_ sign flashes off and he can grab his bag and exit the plane.

It won't take long at all to track Danny down; Steve will check into a hotel first, and then he'll get in touch with Chin. The process will only take a few minutes at most, and then Steve can book a flight to wherever Danny's hiding out, and he can be on his way in a matter of hours.

"Mr. McGarrett," a slightly accented voice says when Steve steps out of the airport. Steve turns his head, and immediately thinks to himself that Koji Noshimuri's profile picture needs to be updated; there's a large, livid scar twisting down the right side of his face, and he's put on probably twenty pounds. It's definitely him, though, and Steve tenses and angles himself away from Noshimuri.

“Mr. Noshimuri," Steve acknowledges. "What can I do for you?"

Noshimuri shrugs. "I am looking for a man of our mutual acquaintance," he says, his speech oddly formal. "Where is Special Agent Williams?"

"Oh, my pain in the ass?" Steve asks, rolling his eyes. "You know, I'd really love to be able to help you with that, but he's kind of hard to pin down at the moment. I think he might be doing some sort of undercover work."

Noshimuri nods as if he's buying a word of Steve's story. "And yet I saw the two of you in line at the ticketing counter yesterday in Atlanta. I would wonder if it was you who gave him the slip, but you are the one on the original flight, not he."

Steve smiles widely. "Like I said, Noshimuri, I wish I could help you, but I have no idea where Agent Williams is right now." The best lies, Steve knows, are the ones that are absolutely true; Noshimuri might not believe him, but as he has no way to check Steve's knowledge, his hands are a bit tied. He takes a step away from Steve.

"We will find him," Noshimuri says, and it's not quite a promise; it's more like a statement of fact. "It would be in your best interests to help us, Mr. McGarrett. The family does not take well to those who betray our trust."

"Yeah, here's the thing," Steve replies. "Hesse is the one who pulled a fast one on me, so I figure he's the one who owes me in this situation. If anyone betrayed anyone in this little showdown, it's Hesse screwing me over, not the other way around."

Noshimuri's lips twist into a parody of a smile. "Your interpretation is interesting, Mr. McGarrett. I will be sure to pass your objections along."

With that, he turns and walks back into the airport. Steve watches him go, and then hops onto the first shuttle that pulls up to the curb. The shuttle speeds away a few minutes later; Steve hops off at the first stop, one hotel in a line of many, and walks across the street and checks into a seedy little motel that advertises rooms by the hour. The room is definitely not one of the nicer ones that Steve has stayed in, but it'll do for his purposes.

He showers and orders a pizza, and spends some time checking in with various contacts and resting. He asks Chin to trace his phone and runs a guest list to find out where Danny's hiding out; Chin promises to email him the information as soon as it comes through.

Three hours after checking in, Steve leaves his key with the front desk, rides back to the airport, and hops on a flight to Florida.

As far as he can tell, Noshimuri doesn't follow.

Steve checks into another off-the-beaten-path hotel when he lands in Orlando; this one, at least, looks like it's been cleaned recently. He sets up his laptop and gets in touch with Chin, who has traced Steve's phone to a Holiday Inn in Wichita, Kansas, where Derek Barton has been in room 214 since mid-afternoon. Chin has pulled video footage to be sure, and Steve stares at the video of Danny at the check-in counter, smiling politely at the clerk as he hands over a credit card and casually checks his watch.

Steve still has nearly a full day before Danny calls Kamekona, but he doesn't waste any time in getting back to the airport. He has to wait nearly three hours for the next flight to Wichita; he spends the time booking a flight to Hawaii from there, opting for the one with the most layovers. It'll be exhausting, but if Noshimuri does manage to track them, it will be easier to lose him in one of the intervening cities.

Steve doesn't sleep on the five-hour flight to Kansas; waking up in Atlanta feels like it was weeks ago. Steve is gritty and exhausted by the time he knocks on the door of room 214, and he waits nearly two minutes before knocking again, more loudly. Finally, he hears the chain slide on the inside of the door, and Steve braces against the frame, ready to launch himself at whoever might be inside if it isn't who he's expecting. The door opens a crack, and then Steve is being hauled into the room by a hand on his shirt, and before he has the chance to identify whoever it is as either a threat or not, Danny is kissing him fiercely, his hands cradling Steve's cheeks.

"Hi," Danny says when he finally pulls back. "That was faster than I was expecting."

"What can I say?" Steve replies, hooking an arm around Danny's waist and pulling him back in. "I missed your charming voice."

Danny grins and leans in for another kiss, but Steve doesn't let it last for much more than a brush of lips before he straightens. "Later," Steve says. "We should get out of here. I've already booked our flight, and we need to get moving."

"How many planes have you been on today?" Danny asks, moving into the room. He picks up his bag from the end of the bed; it looks like he hasn't taken anything out of it.

"More than I'd really like to think about," Steve admits, looking out the peephole and then yanking the door open and doing a visual sweep of the hallway. "Miles to go before I sleep and all that. Let's go."

Danny follows him closely as they make their way back to the airport.

-0-

"So," Danny says conversationally when they're safely ensconced in a hotel in Salt Lake City, two airports later. There’s a nine-hour layover between their flights, and Steve just wants to drop. Apparently, Danny wants to talk, and Steve feels like he should probably be less surprised by this. "Did you find him?"

"He found me," Steve says, sinking into the bed and closing his eyes. "As soon as I walked out of the airport in Des Moines, he found me. He might have been on a different plane, but I'd bet that he hired a plane of his own, since he managed to beat me to Iowa."

"Well, shit," Danny breathes. "He didn't - did he hurt you?"

Steve shakes his head. "He threw a few really vague threats at me, but that's as far as it went. He didn't touch me, Danny."

"Good," Danny says firmly, settling on the bed next to Steve. "So, what's the plan from here?"

"Sleep," Steve says immediately. "Our connection is just before midnight, and both of us have been up for too long."

"Sleep," Danny agrees. "And then a shower, and food, and the plane."

"Sure," Steve mumbles, wondering if he has the energy to toe his boots off before he falls asleep. He's just about decided that, no, he really doesn't, when Danny leans over and starts pulling at the laces. One boot thunks off, followed by the other, and Steve hears the sound of Danny's shoes hitting the ground on the other side of the bed just before Danny curls up into him.

"Goodnight," Danny says, but Steve is barely awake enough to hear him, and far too asleep to reply.

-0-

Steve wakes when Danny reaches out and wiggles his foot back and forth. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Shower so we can eat."

"Time?" Steve asks, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

Danny glances at his watch. "Almost nine. You said the flight is just before midnight, right?" Steve nods and stretches before climbing out of the bed. He heads for the bathroom, but stops when Danny reaches out and snags his sleeve. "I'm glad you're okay," he says, curling his fist tightly in Steve's shirt for a second before letting go.

Steve grabs Danny's retreating hand. "Me too," he says, smiling when Danny grins up at him.

-0-

"So how long is this flight?" Danny asks. They're sitting in the waiting area before the final leg of their trip, and Steve is more than ready for the whole thing to be over. By the tone of Danny's voice, he is, too.

"Eight hours," Steve says, flipping his phone open and sending a text to Kamekona. _plane lands at 4 am. good?_

"Jesus," Danny mutters, leaning back. "Why would you want to live somewhere that's an eight hour flight from the rest of the world?"

"It's a five hour flight from southern California, but this was the best I could do," Steve says absently. Kamekona won't have an issue with it, he knows, but he's hoping he can get some sort of confirmation before they get into the air.

"My point stands," Danny says. "I mean, why even bother having a car?"

Steve glances up from his phone. "It's a big island."

"It's not like you can do road trips, though," Danny persists. "I'm surprised there isn't some huge interconnected mass transit system. It seems more practical than flying cars to the island."

"You get on that," Steve says dryly. He glances down as his phone buzzes. _early, brah, but I'll be there. you got the haole all safe and sound?_

Steve grins. _safe and sound. emphasis on the sound part._ He shuts the phone off after the text sends.

"So, uh," Danny says, shifting. "Am I going to meet your, ah, friends?" He says it like the word tastes wrong in his mouth, and Steve has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

"Some of them," he says neutrally. "My crew is behind me; they'll all introduce themselves as they see fit. Anyone else who wants to meet you is welcome to but I'm not forcing it on anyone."

Danny nods. "To be fair, I know your crew," he points out. "Well, I sort of know your crew, at least. I'll probably be able to put names to faces when I'm in a room with them."

Steve smirks. "I will look forward to seeing that."

"Think I can't do it?" Danny challenges, leaning in. "I can so do it, babe. Just put them all in front of me, and I’ll tell you who's who."

"Oh, no, it's not that I think you can't do it, it's that I'm picturing the look on Chin's face when he realizes exactly how much you know about us," Steve replies, grinning. "He's going to be mortified."

Danny shrugs. "I am good at my job."

"I know," Steve says, amused. "Trust me, I got a look at the file you threw at me on that first day. It's much more complete than I figured it would be."

"But there are still some things missing," Danny guesses, narrowing his eyes. "I don't suppose you want to fill in those blanks, huh?"

"Dream on," Steve says, sitting back in his seat.

They board not long after, settling into their seats. Steve doesn't want to sleep, but the third time he jerks himself back awake, Danny pokes him.

"I'm watching," he says quietly. "You sleep now, and I'll wake you up in a few hours so I can crash for a little while."

"Okay," Steve mumbles, drifting off.

Danny wakes him later, and Steve shakes his head and clears his throat. Danny hands him a small glass of water, and he drinks it gratefully. "Your turn?" he says when he drains the cup.

"My turn," Danny confirms. "Wake me an hour before we land, okay?"

"Got it," Steve replies, grabbing the magazine from the seat back in front of him and settling in. He doesn't read a word, but he occasionally flips the page; it's a good enough cover. He hasn't seen the slightest hint that Noshimuri has followed them, but he'd rather play it a little paranoid than end up dead in an alleyway. He's sure that Danny is feeling the same way.

Steve wakes Danny with an hour to go, and they spend the last part of the flight talking idly about Hawaii. It's general information - where the tourists like to go, what the local food is like, places to avoid. Steve's plan includes Danny avoiding a lot of things that aren't expressly the inside of Steve's house, so the conversation is mostly moot, but it's nice to talk about something that isn't the threat to Danny's life, or the stress of the past few days.

The plane lands half an hour ahead of schedule, and Danny detours them into the bathroom. There's nobody else in there; there's hardly anyone in the airport, not this late at night at this time of year. Danny crowds him into the handicapped stall and hangs his bag carefully on the hook on the door before hauling Steve in and kissing him, sloppy and hot.

"Danny," Steve whispers against his lips.

"Shut up," Danny says hoarsely. "Shut up, shut up, three days ago I wanted to wring your neck myself, and then when you left me in Atlanta yesterday I was convinced that Noshimuri was going to kill you and I was not okay with that, got it? And now we're here and I just-" He cuts himself off by kissing Steve again, more urgently this time. He rests his hand on the waist of Steve's pants, and Steve bucks his hips a bit and drops his bag.

Danny thumbs the button open and has his hand inside Steve's boxers before Steve can think about the stupidity of doing this in a bathroom stall when they'll be at his house in less than an hour. Danny squeezes his hand around Steve’s dick, and any protest that might have been lurking in Steve's mind vanishes as he bites his lip and rests his forehead on Danny's.

"Come on," Danny whispers, "work with me here," and then he's drawing Steve's hand to his own pants. Steve unbuttons the khakis and sticks his hand down the front of Danny's boxers, and from there it's a lot of held breath and biting back groans as they rush each other towards the edge. Steve freezes when he hears someone walk into the bathroom, but Danny wraps his free hand around the back of Steve's neck and kisses him hard, and when he swipes his thumb over the head of Steve's cock, Steve grunts and comes onto his shirt. Danny thrusts into Steve's grip, so Steve tightens his hand and works him quickly, and by the time whoever is out in the bathroom finishes washing their hands, Danny is burying his head into Steve's shoulder and making quiet little choking noises.

"Danny, I have to change my shirt," Steve breathes into Danny's hair after a moment. "Come on, up."

Danny leans away and watches as Steve pulls on a clean tee. His face is oddly closed off, but Steve doesn't have time to ask him about it. They're already going to be late meeting Kamekona, and Steve doesn't want to worry his friend too much.

They're both silent as they walk out of the airport. Steve spots Kamekona's truck almost immediately, and heads over to toss his bag into the back. "Hey, brah," he says, opening the door and accepting Kamekona's pat on the shoulder. "Safe and sound, just like I said."

There's a thump to Steve's left, and when he glances over, he sees that Danny has thrown his own bag into the bed of the truck. He's standing a foot or so away from Steve, his face completely neutral. Steve frowns at him, but Danny doesn't offer him any clues. It's weird, Steve thinks, to not have any idea what Danny is thinking. The man has been nothing but an open book since Steve met him.

"Hey, this is Special Agent Danny Williams," Steve introduces, gesturing towards Danny. "Danny, this is Ice Man."

"Kamekona," the big guy says easily, offering his hand. Danny shakes it before climbing into the back of the truck. "Welcome to paradise, brah."


	4. malie ma mahe

Kamekona chats aimlessly on the way back to Steve’s place. Nothing he says is of any real importance; Steve has the feeling that he’s trying to fill the silence without giving anything too sensitive away, and he appreciates the effort. Danny is still silent in the back of the truck, and the longer he goes without saying anything, the more worried Steve becomes. It’s not like he can just ask what’s wrong, though, not with Kamekona sitting right there, because – just because, Steve thinks. It’ll make things awkward, but he’s not sure how, or for whom.

“How’s business?” Steve asks when Kamekona stops to take a breath. “Have you come up with any new disgusting flavor combinations that you’re going to try to foist off on me and my team?”

Kamekona fakes a wounded look. “All my flavors are carefully-researched masterpieces, man, you know that. It ain’t like I just toss shit into a blender and hope for the best.”

“Strawberry lychee,” Steve deadpans, and Danny snorts from the backseat. Steve doesn’t whip around at the sound, but it’s a near thing.

“So, what, you sell ice cream?” Danny asks. Kamekona’s face splits into a grin.

“Shave ice,” he proclaims, “is so much better than ice cream, brah, you got no idea. Just one taste from Waiola Shave Ice, and you’ll be singing our praises, I promise you that. Best on the island, no doubt about it.”

“Kamekona runs a string of shave ice stands on Oahu,” Steve supplies. “It’s crushed ice with flavor.”

“That is the least appetizing way you could possibly describe the wonder that is shave ice,” Kamekona chides. “You didn’t say anything about the way the flavors combine with the chill, or how you can even combine the syrups over the ice.”

“That’s because I’m not narrating a commercial, I’m trying to explain what it is,” Steve shoots back, and Danny snorts again.

“Tell you what, I’ll do my best to swing by and give it a try while I’m here,” Danny promises. “Something tame, though. I have no idea what lychee is, and I think for my first experience I should try something I’m familiar with, right?”

“It’s sorta like an Asian grape,” Kamekona says. “Part of the soapberry family, and highly delicious. I really recommend it, but if you want to start out with something a little more familiar, I can whip you up a plain old strawberry ice, no problem.”

“Strawberry it is,” Danny agrees. “You sell pickles, too?”

Kamekona shoots Steve a quick glance, and Steve turns around to face Danny. “It’s a code word.”

“A code word,” Danny says in disbelief. “How is ‘pickles’ a code word?”

“Pickles are trouble,” Kamekona says sagely. “McGarrett knows if I call and tell him about pickles, he better pack up and move out. Likewise, he calls me to check in and asks me about pickles, I know he’s asking me if it’s safe to stop by.” He shrugs a massive shoulder. “It works.”

“Until you decide to start selling pickle-flavored shave ice,” Danny points out.

Kamekona makes a face. “Brah, you got no room to complain about lychee if you think pickles would be a good flavor for a dessert, that’s all I’m saying.”

-0-

Steve’s house is dark and quiet when Kamekona pulls up. Steve grabs for the door handle, but Kamekona’s hand lands on his arm before he gets there. “You’ve got company,” he says. His eyes don’t slide towards Danny at all, but Steve can tell that he’s being evasive so Danny doesn’t figure out anything that Steve doesn’t want him to. “Your, uh. Your cucumber is here. The rest of them have scattered to the corners of the island, but she doesn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Thanks for the heads-up,” Steve says, ignoring Danny’s muttering from the backseat. “And thanks for picking us up, too. Cabs are hell at this time of the morning.”

“Cabs are always hell,” Kamekona says decisively. “I ever hear of you taking one when I could have picked you up, I’ll kick your ass, McGarrett.”

“My money’s on him,” Danny says instantly, jerking his thumb at Kamekona, who grins. “But yes, thank you. I’d say the Federal Bureau of Investigation thanks you, but one, they have no idea I’m here, and two, I really doubt that that would impress you at all.”

“It’s a nice thought,” Kamekona says agreeably. “Have a good night, Special Agent Williams.”

“Danny,” Danny says, offering his hand. Kamekona shakes it, and Danny thanks him again while Steve goes to the back of the truck to haul their bags out.

Danny grabs his bag when Steve swings it out of the bed, but he waits for Steve to exchange a few final words with Kamekona before heading up the path to the house. “I would ask why we needed a heads-up about produce in your house, but given the pickle conversation, I’m assuming that’s also code for something.” He waits a beat before asking, “Your sister?”

Steve shrugs and nods; it’s not like Danny isn’t going to figure it out quickly enough, when Mary turns out to be the only other person in the house. “She wanted to stick around and help out,” he half-explains.

“So she’s, what, pre-problematic, is that what the cucumber thing is all about?” Danny hefts his bag over his shoulder as Steve unlocks the deadbolts in sequence. “Also, I’m thinking you could give those guys at Fort Knox a run for their money. What is this, are you expecting some sort of gang of ruffians with horrible lock-picking skills, is that what’s going on here?”

“Ruffians?” Steve asks absently as the door swings open.

Danny sighs. “That’s clearly the part of that thought that I wanted you to pick up on.”

“I try,” Steve says, shutting the door and punching in the alarm code. He does the locks up swiftly and listens carefully; there’s no sound from inside the house. Mary’s probably asleep, which isn’t surprising, given the hour. “What’s on your mind?”

“What do you mean, what’s on my mind?” It’s deflection, and Steve knows it; he raises an eyebrow, but Danny just plants his hands on his hips and glares. “I’m on the wrong side of the country, on an island that’s a six hour plane ride from the next nearest place, and I have no idea where my daughter is, do you not think that’s on my mind?”

Maybe this isn’t the time to press, Steve decides. They’re both exhausted, and the past few days haven’t been anything near to peaceful. “Let’s sleep,” he says instead of calling Danny out on his sidestepping. “We’ll crash for a while and call everyone together in the afternoon to start working things out.”

Danny’s shoulders slumps and he nods. “Sleep,” he agrees, glancing at the staircase. “Should I just take the couch, or-”

“Uh,” Steve says, looking at Danny’s face and then up towards his room. “I can put you in a guest room, if that’s what you want, but I kind of figured after the last few days that you’d be staying with me.”

Danny stares for a moment before laughing a little and shaking his head tiredly. “I’m not even going to try to convince you that that isn’t a good idea right now,” he mutters. “Let’s go, chop chop, I’d like to be asleep sooner rather than later.”

Steve really wants to stop and ask him what he means, but when he opens his mouth to do just that, his face nearly cracks from the force of his yawn. “Okay, sleep,” he says when he can speak again, and Danny grins and follows him up the stairs. He pauses at the door of Steve’s room, but it’s no more than a momentary hesitation, and then he follows Steve inside.

They get ready for bed in silence, and Steve groans when he slides between the cool sheets. Danny stands at the side of the bed for a moment before Steve looks up at him. “What?” Steve asks, pulling the sheets back. “There’s a joke about an engraved invitation in here, but you’ve already gone there, and I’m too tired to phrase it anyway.”

Danny climbs into the bed slowly and lies on his side facing Steve for a few minutes. “You know that’s creepy, right?” Steve eventually says, which at least gets a small smile out of Danny. “Look, if this is weird for you for whatever reason, you can go sleep in the guest room. I’m not trying to force you to stay in here with me or something.”

“Isn’t it weird for you?” Danny asks, somehow managing to cross his arms over his chest while laying on his side. “I mean, your sister is in the house, and your friends are coming over tomorrow. You want them all to know about-” He gestures between them, and Steve rolls his eyes.

“Mary has known I was bi since I was fifteen,” he says. “She’s the first person I came out to. My crew knows, too, and none of them care. So, no, it doesn’t bother me if they figure it out.” Steve shifts in the bed. “Would you rather they not find out?”

Danny shrugs a shoulder. “I really doubt that any of them are going to report back to my bosses about it, and it’s not like my bosses could do more than disapprove behind the scenes if they knew.” He takes a breath. “It seriously doesn’t bother you?”

“I wouldn’t have invited you in here if it bothered me,” Steve points out. “I probably wouldn’t have slept with you in the first place, to be honest. I don’t keep things from my crew.”

“Good to know that you’re the kiss-and-tell type,” Danny mutters, but he loosens his arms and scoots a few inches closer. “So you honestly-”

“Oh my God,” Steve groans, reaching out to grab Danny’s hip and haul him the rest of the way in. “Shut up, okay?” He leans in to press his lips to Danny’s, and Danny laughs softly against Steve’s mouth as he rests a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“I can probably do that,” he replies. “Just for a little while, y’know, because talking is one of my-”

Steve snorts and kisses him again.

-0-

“Okay, he’s hotter than I was picturing,” is the first thing Steve hears when he wakes up, and he blinks a few times, looking around fuzzily until his gaze lands on Mary.

“Um,” Steve says, trying to turn away from Danny. This proves to be harder than anticipated; Danny has an arm locked around Steve’s waist like a vice, and when Steve tries to move, Danny tightens his grip and mumbles sleepily into Steve’s neck. Steve settles a hand on Danny’s arm and yawns. “Time is it?”

“It’s almost ten, but given how the two of you are curled up together, I’m assuming you got in a little late,” Mary replies, clearly amused. “The fact that you didn’t wake up when I dropped the coffeepot kinda clued me in, too.”

“Things got a little crazy,” Steve says, rubbing at his face with his free hand. “I figured that Toast or Chin would pass the latest around. Did they not call you?”

Mary leans against the doorframe, arms wrapped around her stomach. “Adam told me, yeah. You ran into some hired muscle, you split up, you met back up at some point after that, you came here.” She narrows her eyes. “I’m getting the feeling that he left some parts out.”

“Can we do this later?” Steve asks, glancing at Danny, who is still, somehow, asleep against Steve’s chest. “I mean, not that I don’t love talking to you, but we’ve had a long few days, and if you and Toast are having some kind of lover’s spat-”

“If by ‘lover’s spat,’ you mean ‘I’m about to go over there and wring his neck for lying to me,’ then yes, we’re definitely having one of those,” Mary snaps. “Look, I’m gonna go pay him a visit, you enjoy your nap with your haole. I’m assuming you want everyone over here later on; I’ll make sure everyone gets here this afternoon.”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Thanks.”

“I’ll talk to you when I get back,” she says, and she’s gone before Steve can get another word in. The front door slams less than a minute later, and Steve hears a car start up and drive away. He lets a breath out as he stares at the ceiling.

“He’s not my haole,” Steve mutters belatedly, but he wraps his arm around Danny’s back and buries his face in Danny’s hair and sees how Mary might have gotten the idea.

-0-

“Steve,” Danny says, not quite softly. “Hey, man. Wake up, come on.”

“Danny?” Steve blinks his eyes open. Danny’s face is only a few inches from his own, and it takes a few moments for everything to click into place. He squeezes Danny’s hip in his hand and smiles.

“Good morning,” Danny says, grinning at him. “I’d love to let you wake up leisurely, but I need to ask where the bathroom is.”

Steve nods his head towards the master bathroom. “Behind you.”

“Good, good,” Danny says, nodding. “Can you let go of me so I can use it?”

“Ah,” Steve replies, squeezing Danny’s hip again before letting go. “I can probably do that.”

“Magnanimous of you,” Danny says dryly. Steve groans.

“Too early for your vocabulary,” he says, burying his face back into the pillow.

Danny laughs. “It’s noon, babe. Get your ass in gear. We’ve got work to do.”

Steve grumbles into his pillow for a little while longer, but when he hears the shower turn on, he slips out of bed and joins Danny in the bathroom. Danny pokes his head out of the stall when Steve turns the tap on. “You gonna join me?”

Steve shakes his head. “You’re right, we have work to do. Me getting in the shower with you, while fun, will have to wait for some other day.”

Danny snorts. “Suit yourself.”

Steve brushes his teeth and shaves while Danny’s in the shower; he lays out a spare toothbrush and a disposable razor before they switch places, and when he gets out of the shower, Danny is just stepping into his wrinkled khakis.

“I’m going to need to borrow your washer,” he says, wrinkling his nose as he surveys the dirty shirts in his bag. “I’m going with the one that smells the least and hoping I don’t offend anyone.”

“Here,” Steve offers, tossing Danny a tee from his dresser. “We can stick your stuff in the wash when we go downstairs.” He pauses, considering. “It might be a good idea to go grab a few more changes, too. We have no idea how long you’ll be here, and three outfits isn’t going to last you for long.”

“Not to mention, washing my boxers every day is going to get old fast,” Danny agrees. “Meeting, then shopping. Sounds like paradise for sure.” He snorts and pulls Steve’s tee on, and Steve has to turn and rifle through his dresser for his own clothing, because the sight of Danny in a worn UH tee, logo stretched and faded across his chest, is making Steve want to push that meeting back.

“Let’s get downstairs,” he says when he’s pulled on a fresh pair of cargoes and a plain black tee. “Everyone should be here soon.”

-0-

Chin arrives first, which doesn’t surprise Steve at all. Kono is barely two minutes behind him, which is a little surprising; Chin’s all for punctuality, but Kono is usually the last one through the door, taking the definition of island time and stretching it as far as it’ll take her. Steve watches as her eyes slide around the living room before narrowing on the door to the kitchen when Danny drops something and swears.

“Sit,” he tells her, tapping her on the shoulder and pointing to the couch. She mock-pouts, but goes to sit as Steve walks towards the kitchen.

Danny is glaring at a coffee mug that’s sitting on the floor, and Steve takes a moment to picture the scene that must have preceded this one. He’s coming up with more and more hilarious explanations the longer he thinks about it, so he eventually shakes his head and asks, “What happened?”

“Fucking cup,” Danny grumbles, leaning over to pick it up, “tried to kill me. Is that the plan, McGarrett? Lure me out here to your island home by the sea, kill me with kitchenware?”

Steve stares for a few seconds before giving in and laughing. “You’ve figured me out, Danny, damn. Now what?”

“You are not funny,” Danny snaps, thunking the mug onto the counter. “Where do you keep the coffee?”

Steve is still laughing as he opens the cabinet and grabs the coffee and a filter. “Make a full pot,” he advises. “I have the feeling we’re going to need it.”

“Of course I’m going to make a full pot,” Danny says. “What are the rest of you going to drink, though?”

“Well,” Kono drawls from the doorway, “I can see why Steve wanted to save your life instead of letting that goon kill you.”

Steve shoots her an exasperated look; Danny jumps and turns, and as he moves, his hand catches the mug, sending it back onto the floor. Steve starts laughing again as Danny swears colorfully.

-0-

Toast and Mary arrive shortly before Kamekona pulls up with Mamo. Steve waits until everyone is settled in the living room before clearing his throat. “Guys, this is Special Agent Danny Williams. Danny, you’ve met Kamekona-”

“I told you I could probably place them all,” Danny cuts in, his eyes narrowing as he glances around the room. “Chin Ho Kelly, Kono Kalakaua, Adam Charles, Mary Ann McGarrett, and, yes, Kamekona.” He points at each in turn, right in every instance. He points to Mamo last. “You, though, I have no idea, which means that you’re either very careful or not actually a part of this operation.”

Mamo smiles enigmatically. “Why not both?”

“Or both,” Danny concedes. “What should I call you?”

“I’m Mamo,” he says, nodding. “You know everyone else by name, might as well use mine, too.”

“Not to mention, Toast would forget halfway through and call you by your name anyway,” Kono tosses in, smirking over Mary’s head at Toast, who sticks his tongue out at her. “So, yes, Mr. FBI, we’re all impressed that you can identify us. Can we get to the point of this little get-together?”

“Sure thing,” Danny says amiably, holding up a hand. “Two things, though: one, call me Danny, and two, Toast?”

Kono snickers, and this time it’s Chin who rolls his eyes. “Adam picked up a nickname in high school, and some people insist that he never forget it,” he says, motioning towards Toast. “I told him that his drug habit was getting out of hand, and now everyone knows it.”

“I don’t smoke up any more,” Toast adds, and Steve smirks. After a moment, Toast adds, “Well, not much. _Ilima_ doesn’t like it.”

“That’s because it’ll get you thrown in jail,” Mary says primly, settling into Toast’s side.

Toast rolls his eyes. “Mary, I help your brother steal things for money. A little weed isn’t going to add much to my sentence if I ever get caught.”

“The smell of theft doesn’t follow you around, though,” Mary replies, with the easy familiarity of an argument that’s been had more times than anyone present could even begin to count. Danny is staring at them, his expression somewhere between fascinated and horrified. Steve can relate. The thought of his little sister being a calming influence on anyone is a scary thought.

“Right,” he says, clapping his hands once. “So what have we found out?”

As it turns out, between Mamo’s contacts and Chin’s network and Toast’s ability to get into any system that he stares at for long enough, they’ve gathered quite a lot of information. Chin starts talking about Hesse’s connection to the Cirganos, Kono takes over and talks about Noshimuri, and Mamo frowns and starts talking about someone else named Noshimuri that he’d known a long time ago. He’d been connected to a corrupt politician, and Steve vaguely remembers the whole mess going up in flames maybe five or so years ago, James or Jamis or something. Mamo’s Noshimuri turns out to be the brother of Hesse’s Noshimuri, which brings up the question of how widespread this whole thing might be.

“So, basically, you’re telling me that we’ve got to take Hesse and Noshimuri out of the picture for me to get my life back,” Danny says after an hour and far too much coffee. He’s practically bouncing in his seat, and his fingers are drumming against his leg.

“That’s probably only the tip of the iceberg,” Steve replies. “Hesse is getting those orders from somewhere. He’s a soldier, not a decision-maker. Someone else is in charge, and we’ll need to figure out who that is and take them down before this is over.”

“That’s the frustrating part, too,” Chin tosses in. “I can get names and histories on nearly anyone I can think of, but when I try to trace this guy’s trail, it goes up in smoke.”

“Not the fun kind, either,” Toast adds, grinning even as Mary digs her elbow into his ribs. “The guy’s a real ghost, though. The closest we came to anything about him is that he might have started out as a contractor for the family and somehow managed to worm his way in. It’s not exactly a lead, but-”

“What?” Steve interrupts, staring at Danny, whose hand is curled like a vice around the arm of the chair he’s sitting in like. “Danny?”

“That _son of a bitch_ ,” Danny breathes. “I let him – and this is-” He turns to Chin. “If I give you a name, do you think you could connect the dots between the guy I give you and the guy who’s trying to have me killed?”

Chin purses his lips. “I can look into it, that’s for sure. If it’s the right guy, having his name could open up a lot of doors, no doubt.”

“Wo Fat,” Danny says, and Mamo spits out, “ _Kanapapiki_.”

There’s a moment of dead silence before Kono says, voice quiet, “Um.”

Mamo is looking at Danny, eyes hard. “He was with the Yakuza here years ago before he just up and disappeared. There are rumors that he’s the one who got Jameson in touch with Noshimuri, but nothing ever stuck. He’s very smart, very dangerous.”

“Sounds about right,” Danny says grimly. “He’s the main reason that the case I worked in Jersey went so smoothly, to be honest. He turned over a lot of evidence, leaned on a lot of guys to make things happen. His line was that he was trying to turn over a new leaf, but I didn’t really buy it.” He sighs and swipes a hand through his hair. “I noted in more than one report that the department should keep an eye on him; I had the feeling he might have been cleaning house to make a space for himself. Looks like I might have been right.”

Mamo has his phone out, and he’s scrolling through his contacts list. “If it’s him, we need to come up with something quickly,” Mamo says. “If Wo Fat wants you dead, he’s not going to wait around for you to pop up.”

“Noshimuri saw us together,” Steve says. “He knew me by name, too, which means that they’ve already connected us, which means they know I’m the one who tipped you off.”

“Which means they might already be on their way here,” Danny translates. “Well, that’s just great.”

“They might already be here,” Chin says, eyes darting out the window. “They weren’t plane-hopping to get here. There’s every chance that they landed before you did, and are already holed up somewhere.”

“Yeah,” Mamo says clearly, and all eyes turn to him. He’s speaking into his phone, eyes narrowed. “Any news?”

There’s a moment of silence, and then Mamo’s shoulders slump. “Mahalo,” he says, hanging up. He rubs his forehead before looking up. “Friend of mine says there’s some new power in town, and that whoever it is is keeping themselves off he radar.”

“Well, fuck,” Mary says, and Steve completely, wholeheartedly agrees.

-0-

“Look,” Danny argues, “I’m not letting you go out and buy me underwear, are we clear on this?”

Steve sighs. “I just don’t want anyone to catch sight of you before-”

“Before we have a plan, yes, I know,” Danny snaps. He glares for a moment before the fight wilts out of him. “Steve, look, I appreciate that you’re worried about my safety, but I can handle a trip to Wal-Mart, okay?”

Steve presses his lips together firmly and shrugs. At the end of the day, there’s nothing he can do if Danny wants to go out; if he stops pissing Danny off, at least Danny won’t object if he tags along. “You are a stubborn, stubborn man,” he says finally, and Danny laughs.

“I have heard this before,” Danny says, puffing his chest up like it’s a point of pride. “So are we going?”

Steve sighs. “Just a minute,” he says, resigned. He sits on the edge of his bed and reaches around underneath, finding the locker with very little trouble. Danny’s eyes widen as Steve opens it up, revealing several handguns. “You can choose to believe that these are all properly registered, if it means you’ll take one with you.”

Danny shakes his head a little and reaches for the Glock with barely a glance at the others. He checks the piece efficiently before reaching for one of the holsters in the top of the case. “I’m not even going to ask,” he says, sounding oddly cheerful as he straps on the ankle holster and slides the gun inside. It sits snugly against his leg, and when he arranges his pants around it, the holster isn’t visible.

“That’s probably for the best,” Steve says, reaching for his Beretta and sliding it into its own holster. It’s the work of barely a minute to get everything settled, and then he locks the case and slides it back under the bed. “Okay, now we’re ready.”

“Absolutely,” Danny agrees, heading for the door. “Can I drive?”

“Not a chance,” Steve informs him as they walk down the stairs. “Nice try, though.”

“Come on,” Danny wheedles. “It’s a sweet car. I love my baby, don’t get me wrong, but a Camaro?”

Steve nods. “It’s a nice car,” he agrees. “And you still can’t drive it, so try not to pout too hard.”

“You’re such a tease,” Danny sighs as he slides into the passenger seat. “God, leather seats. Forget the FBI, I’m taking up a life of crime so I can afford something like this.”

Steve shoots him an amused glance. “It’s a loaner.”

Danny arches an eyebrow. “Are you trying to tell me that you couldn’t afford to buy it outright if you so chose?”

Steve smiles and doesn’t bother answering.

-0-

“Seriously, how much clothing do you think I’m going to need?” Danny complains when Steve stands in front of the shopping cart return, digging in his pockets for a quarter. “A few shirts, a few pair of slacks, a five-pack of boxers, why do we need a cart, Steve?”

“Wal-Mart,” Steve replies, which is really an answer enough on its own. “Come on, Danny, it’s not like it hurts to push a cart around.” He demonstrates by rolling the cart forward and back again a few times. Danny rolls his eyes.

“Carts have this funny way of attracting crap, though,” Danny replies, walking alongside the cart as Steve pushes it into the store. “If we get a cart, we’re going to end up walking out of here with a toaster or nine boxes of Mini Muffins or something.”

“Sounds like a personal control problem,” Steve observes. Danny flips him the finger and keeps walking towards the men’s department.

Trying on clothing while wearing a holster is apparently a new experience for Danny; there’s some muffled swearing from inside the dressing room as Danny’s right foot disappears from view, presumably to balance on the stool in the room. There’s a thunking sound a moment later, and then Danny’s foot comes back down, holster-free.

“You okay in there, buddy?” Steve asks, amused. Danny mutters something indistinguishable, and Steve grins and leans against the wall of the dressing room, looking around casually. He can’t make out anything that might be a threat, which doesn’t mean there isn’t one, but Steve will take what he can get at this point.

“Hey, okay, these fit,” Danny announces from inside the changing room. “I’ll change out of these while you grab me a few more pairs. I’ve got the black, so go for the charcoal ones, the khakis, the-”

“Nah,” Steve cuts in. “I’ll wait until you’re done, and we can go over there together.” _I’m not leaving you alone_ , he doesn’t say, but Danny’s answering sigh means that he probably heard that part anyway.

“Give me a few minutes,” Danny concedes. Steve nods, even though Danny can’t see him, and leans back against the wall. Nothing is sticking out as an obvious threat; he lets his eyes slide half-closed and studies the few people he can see from where he is. He doesn’t see any less-than-obvious threats, either, and the dressing room is in the middle of the clothing department, so Steve can see pretty far.

“Am I good to come out?” Danny asks a moment later.

Steve glances around again quickly before replying. “Yeah, you’re good.” Danny walks out and tosses his things into the cart, and they walk back to the racks. Danny grabs a few more pairs of slacks and walks to the shirts; he grabs a few without really looking at them and throws them on top of the slacks.

“That’s an interesting choice,” Steve says dryly, picking at the sleeve of one of the shirts. “This looks like a picnic blanket, Danny.”

“Beggars, choosers, whatever,” Danny says, grabbing a package of undershirts and a package of boxers to add to the cart. “I won’t wear it out of the house. Does that make you feel better?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’d feel better if you didn’t want to dress in things that made you look like a lumberjack, but hey, it’s your body.”

“Damn right it is,” Danny mutters, walking towards the checkout. “Are we done here?”

“I think we are,” Steve says, and that’s when they hear the scream.

Steve immediately ducks and reaches out for Danny, but Danny has turned towards the sound of the scream, and he’s tensed like he’s going to go for his gun. He’s scanning the spaces between the racks, and Steve only notices the blur of motion behind Danny because he’s looking for it. “Behind you!” Steve snaps, and Danny spins.

The scream repeats, except now it sounds more like a gurgled sob. Steve frowns when Danny’s face breaks into a shell-shocked sort of look, and a moment later, he disappears from view as he kneels down between the racks.

“Danny,” Steve hisses, but when he turns the corner and reaches Danny, Danny has his arms around a little girl, who’s clutching his collar in her hands and sobbing nonsense into his shoulder.

“Baby, baby,” Danny croons, rocking her back and forth, “honey, it’s okay, it’s okay. Where’s your mom, Monkey?”

“Annie?” a woman’s voice calls, and when Steve turns around, he recognizes Rachel Edwards instantly. She looks panicked, like any mother who might have lost her child, but Steve can see how she’s got her hand in her purse. She’s carrying, Steve realizes, and Steve knows that her fears might be a little more immediate that most other parents’.

“Uh,” Steve says, raising a hand. “Over here, ma’am, I think-”

Danny stands, holding the girl to his chest. Rachel stops a few feet away, frozen stock-still for a few seconds, and then her hand comes out of her purse and she half-reaches for Danny and the girl, who’s clearly Danny’s daughter Grace. Now that he can see her face over Danny’s shoulder, he can see Danny’s cheekbones and expressive mouth in her face.

“Oh,” Rachel says, very softly. “Danny, I-”

“Is this your little girl, ma’am?” Danny cuts in. “I heard her yelling, and I know how scary it can be when you get lost in a big store.” He smiles. “My kid got lost in a K-Mart once. Scared the crap out of me.”

Rachel’s face goes through a few expressions while Danny’s talking – confusion, realization, and a brief flash of thankfulness before settling into a tentative smile. “I’m so sorry,” she says, holding out her arms. “We’re on vacation without her father, and she misses him terribly, don’t you, Annie?”

Grace lets go of Danny reluctantly as she nods and slips into her mother’s arms.

“You resemble him,” she says to Danny with a smile. “Elizabeth Wallis, and this is Annie.”

“Andy Graham,” Danny says, shaking Rachel’s outstretched hand. “My partner, Russ Becker.”

Rachel’s eyes slide to Steve and widen the slightest bit before she smiles. “It’s lovely to meet you both. Might I buy you each a coffee for finding Annie for me?”

Danny smiles. “We need to pay for a few things before we leave, but we’d love to join you for a bit. Right, Russ?”

“Absolutely,” Steve agrees with a smile. “We’ll meet you at the exit in ten minutes?”

“Sounds perfect,” Rachel agrees with a smile.

-0-

Danny is shaking by the time they get to the checkout area. “This is not fucking good,” he says to Steve. “They’re already on the island, Steve. My baby’s here, Rachel’s here, this is not good. I led them right to my family.”

“It’s going to be fine,” Steve says calmly. “Breathe, okay? Breathe.”

“I am breathing as well as I can,” Danny hisses, dumping his things onto the belt at the checkout counter. “Steve, they’re in danger. Did you miss that part?”

“Danny, your ex-wife is the director of the Criminal Investigative Division of the FBI,” Steve replies, handing the cashier his credit card. “She’s got a gun in her purse. She can keep Grace safe.”

Danny bites his lip. “We need to move fast on this.”

“Of course,” Steve nods. “We’ll update everyone as soon as we get back to my place. I do think we should meet up with Rachel, though, so we can fill her in on a few things, tell her to keep her head low, that sort of thing.”

“Right,” Danny says. He closes his eyes and takes a breath. “They’re going to be fine.”

“And so are you,” Steve says, leaning in to squeeze Danny’s shoulder. Danny opens his eyes and smiles briefly.

“Okay,” he says, grabbing the bags and walking towards the exit. “Let’s do this.”

-0-

They sit in a booth in the back of a nearby coffee shop; Grace is between Danny and the wall, and Steve is next to Rachel, keeping an eye on the rest of the café while Danny and Rachel talk quietly.

“I never thought they’d send us to the same place,” Rachel says. “The point of this was to get us away from DC, away from each other. I figured they’d send you to the middle of nowhere.” She eyes Steve. “I’m guessing that your plans have changed.”

“The driver that came to get me wasn’t actually my driver,” Danny says, glancing down at Grace. “I knew that Steve was safe, so I asked him for his help, which he’s gladly giving.”

“Hm,” Rachel says, pursing her lips. “And you’re in Hawaii because-”

“I live here,” Steve says, never taking his eyes off of the door of the café. “I have people here; I have resources I can tap. We needed to be in a place where I could reach all of that, so we came here.”

Rachel sighs. “What have you found out?”

Steve can see Danny’s grimace out of the corner of his eye. “Wo Fat.”

Rachel inhales sharply, then glances at her daughter. “You’re sure?”

“Sure enough,” Danny says. “Some of Steve’s associates are checking into it right now, but the pieces fit, Rach.” He gives her a reassuring smile. “We’re taking care of it, but in the meantime, it might be safer for you to call your handler and get the three of you moved off the island.”

“He’s here,” Rachel says flatly, and Danny hesitates before nodding.

“If he’s not here personally, he’s got people in the area,” he says.

“Good God,” Rachel says, pinching the bridge of her nose delicately. “I’ll get in touch with the handler as soon as we get back to the house.” She fixes Danny with a look. “You’ll be okay?”

Danny smiles. “I’m in good enough hands. I’ll be fine.”

“That’s not exactly reassuring,” Rachel says as Steve says, “Good _enough_?”

Danny laughs. “Nothing’s going to happen to me, Rachel. Don’t worry.”

Rachel sighs. “If you say so,” she replies after a moment. “Sweetheart, say goodbye to your father, okay? We need to get moving.”

“Please don’t go, Daddy,” Grace says, big brown eyes filling with tears. “Please come and stay with me and Mommy and Stan.”

“You know what, Monkey, I would love to do that,” Danny says, leaning in to rub his nose against Grace’s, “but I have some bad guys to catch first, okay? I’ll come and visit you as soon as I can, though. I promise.”

Grace nods and throws her arms around Danny’s neck. “I miss you,” she says in a trembling voice.

“I miss you, too,” Danny replies, hugging her close. “But the sooner I go, the sooner I’ll get back, right?”

“Right,” Grace says with a small smile. “And you’ll catch the bad guys and put them in jail.”

“That’s my job,” Danny says. “Hey, Danno loves you, baby.”

“I love you too, Danno,” she replies instantly, pulling back to plant a kiss on the very tip of Danny’s nose. Danny does the same to her, and Grace lets go of him a little reluctantly.

Rachel pushes a business card across the table to Danny. “That’s the number I’m using. It’ll work until we get off the island; if something comes up, give me a call.”

Steve grabs a napkin and scribbles his number onto it. “Mine,” he says, offering it to Rachel. “Danny’s phone is, ah, broken. Call me if you need to get in touch with him.”

Rachel narrows her eyes at Steve, but accepts the paper. “Take care of him,” she says quietly, “or I will make sure that you’re extradited to the worst possible country to stand trial.”

Steve nods. “If anything happens to him, I’ll turn myself in to you personally.”

“Sitting right here,” Danny snaps. “I can handle myself, thanks.”

Rachel smiles effortlessly. “I’ve found that a good threat does wonders for morale,” she says. “Certainly you’ve noticed that by now.”

“It does make your weekly memos make a little more sense,” Danny replies, standing. “C’mon, babe, let’s get out of here. We’ve got plans to make.”

“It was nice meeting you,” Steve says to Rachel and Grace as he stands. “I’ll make sure we get the bad guys as quickly as we can, okay?”

Grace nods seriously. “It’s a deal.”

Steve smiles at her, and then Danny is tugging him out of the café and down the street.


	5. mastermind

“So what’s the plan?” Danny asks as they walk to the Camaro. Steve tosses the keys to Danny and heads to the passenger side, already pulling his phone from his pocket. It takes a few steps for him to realize that Danny isn’t following.

Steve turns and looks back. “What?”

“I can seriously drive?” Danny asks, clutching the keys like he’s not giving them up without a fight. “After telling me before about how it’s a loaner, teasing me the whole time-”

“I wasn’t teasing,” Steve says mildly. “And I’d like to make a few phone calls on the way without getting pulled over, so yeah, you can drive.” He tilts his head to the side. “Unless you’d rather not?”

Danny shoots him a glare and walks to the driver’s side. “I was just making sure,” he says, hitting the unlock and opening the door. “You’re sending some mixed signals about the car, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Get in and drive,” Steve says as he slides in and buckles his seat belt. “Is that clear enough? I can probably explain a little more, if it would make you feel better.”

“I think I can figure it out from that, thanks,” Danny says, climbing in and closing his door. “Back to your place?”

“Yeah, head that way,” Steve replies, fingers dialing. “You know the way?”

“I do, in fact, pay attention,” Danny says dryly, starting the car. “I’ll let you know if I get lost.”

Steve hits the send button and nods. It’s less than two rings before Mamo answers. “What’s up, kiddo?”

“I could ask you the same,” Steve replies. “Anything new?”

“Chin says that the chances of Wo Fat being the guy we’re looking at are pretty good,” Mamo says. “He’d put money on it, were his words.”

“That’s as good as confirmed, then,” Steve decides. “Do we know any more about his operation here in Hawaii?”

“Noshimuri is definitely here, according to Kamekona’s sources, and he’s working for someone who is either already here or will be shortly,” Mamo reports. “There are only a few people who have the power to get a guy like Wo Fat on or off of this island, Steve, and you know if he goes to Sang Min-”

“-he’ll do it for free just to give me the finger,” Steve finishes grimly. Sang Min is an old rival; they’d worked together, once upon a time, but Sang Min had gotten more and more violent as time went on. Steve had cut ties with him almost fifteen years ago, and Sang Min has been a pain in the ass ever since. “Which Wo Fat probably knows, which means he’s definitely going to be in play.”

“That’s about it at this point,” Mamo says. “How was the shopping trip?”

“We ran into a complication,” Steve says shortly, glancing over at Danny, whose fingers have tightened on the wheel.

“A complication,” Mamo says after a moment. “Everything okay?”

“Probably,” Steve temporizes, frowning. “Nothing immediately problematic, but we’re either going to have to step up our game, or hold off for a little longer than I’d really like to, depending on whether or not Wo Fat is already on the island.”

Steve can hear almost Mamo frowning. “I’ll put the team on it,” he says. “We’ll meet up tonight and see what’s what then, as long as everything will keep.”

“Works for me,” Steve says. “I’ll let Toast know. Can you get in touch with everyone else?”

“Will do, kiddo,” Mamo replies, hanging up without another word.

Steve is dialing Toast’s number as soon as he pulls the phone away from his ear. “Toast,” he greets when the phone clicks on. “I need you to-”

“Hang on,” Mary answers. He can hear her walking around. “Adam!”

Steve winces and holds the phone away from his ear. “Mary, hey,” he complains, “my eardrums.”

“Deal with it,” she says breezily. “It worked. Here you go.”

“Hey,” Toast says a few seconds later. “Everything chill with the haole?”

“Less than,” Steve replies grimly. “We ran into a little bit of trouble. Can you look something up for me?”

“On it,” Toast says, voice as close to businesslike as he gets. “What sort of lookup?”

“Sang Min,” Steve says shortly. Toast doesn’t reply, but Steve can picture his face, twisted up as if he’d bitten his lip. “Chances are good that’s how Wo Fat is planning on getting here. If there’s some record of it in a system somewhere-”

“I’ll let you know,” Toast cuts in. Steve can hear keys clacking in the background. “You heading home?”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Let me guess, you’re there with Mary.”

“That wasn’t exactly a hard thing to figure out,” Toast replies, “but yeah, I am. We’ll see you soon.”

“Ten minutes,” Steve warns, “so if either one of you is less than clothed-”

Toast hangs up, laughing.

-0-

They pull up to the house in eight minutes, but Steve makes Danny wait in the car until the full ten are up; he has the feeling that if they walk in early, Mary will be extremely unclothed, and that’s something he doesn’t need to add to his day. Mary’s smirk as they walk into the house is proof enough that he was right.

“Sang Min,” Toast says when they get into the kitchen, “keeps some pretty open records, man. He needs a lesson in security, for real, because this shit is just embarrassing.” He shakes his head and spins his laptop around, showing Steve and Danny a screen full of strings of numbers.

Steve stares at blankly. “That’s good, right?”

Danny laughs. “That’s good,” he confirms, sliding into the seat across from Toast. “So you broke in?”

“Well, that’s the good news,” Toast replies. “Bad news is, Sang Min had a package arrive yesterday, and he’s received two really big wire transfers recently.”

“Let me guess,” Steve says. “One a few days before the package, and one shortly after.”

“You’re on a roll today, boss,” Toast says. “I think it’s safe to assume that the package is either Wo Fat or one of his dudes.”

Danny’s lips press together in a thin line. “Or both.”

“Or both,” Toast agrees. “I mean, it’s easy enough to break into his records, but it’s not like he keeps detailed notes, you know? ‘Picked up mob dude from cargo ship, took him to Kailua, got him in touch with gun dude,’ it’s not that easy.”

“If it were, I’d probably be out of a job,” Danny says dryly. “So there’s at least one someone here to kill me, is the bottom line.”

“Chances are good,” Toast replies.

Steve sighs. “Danny, do you think it would be better to get Rachel and Grace off the island, or to get them some cover and not draw attention to them?”

Danny frowns. “At this point? I’m honestly not sure. I mean, as much as I want them away from the danger, you’re right – they could be targeted if they make it known that they’re here.” He shakes his head. “Unless, of course, Wo Fat already knows that they’re here, in which case, keeping them here is worse.”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Not like we can ask him, though.”

Danny pinches the bridge of his nose. “Let me call Rachel and see what she thinks.” He holds his hand out for Steve’s phone, which he hands over. “I’m assuming that when you say ‘cover,’ you mean both a place to stay and large, scary men with guns?”

“I can provide both of those,” Steve replies. “Let me know what she says.”

Danny smiles, distracted, as he fishes out the card that Rachel had given him and dials the number. “Rach? Hey, yeah, so we got some news.” He stands and wanders into the other room, and Steve loses track of the conversation as he turns back to Toast.

“Likelihood that it’s Wo Fat?” he asks.

Toast shakes his head. “Really, really high. I mean, I can’t actually guarantee it, but if I could, I would.”

Steve blows out a breath. “I’m not sure if this is good news or bad news,” he admits. “We ran into Danny’s ex and their kid while we were out.”

Toast whistles. “That is not a good thing.”

“That’s a huge coincidence, is what that is,” Mary says, narrowing her eyes. “I mean, there’s no way they could have planned on you telling Danny, right? So it’s a gigantic fucking coincidence, that’s it?”

Steve frowns, considering. “I want to say yes to that, but at this point-”

“I’ll be back,” Mary says, pulling her phone out of her pocket and heading out to the lanai. She starts talking just as Danny drifts back into the room.

“Rachel says she’d rather stay put at this point, and I’m inclined to agree with her,” he says, laying Steve’s phone on the table. “It just seems like uprooting them at this point would be painting a target on their backs. Well, even more of a target.”

Steve nods. “Are they safe where they are, or do they need to be moved?”

“They need to be moved,” Mary says grimly, walking back into the house. “Ben says the likelihood of someone in the FBI being involved in this is, quote, ‘too high a risk to ignore, even if he can’t confirm it,’ unquote.”

“Well, that fucking figures,” Danny says bitterly. “Also, Ben?”

Mary smiles sweetly. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Very much so,” Danny mutters. “So do I call her back and tell her to check into a hotel?”

Steve looks up as someone knocks on the front door. “That’s probably Chin and Kono,” he says. “Let’s catch them up and figure things out from there.”

-0-

Chin and Kono have brought Mamo, and Kamekona shows up as they’re settling into the living room again. It’s handy, Steve thinks, to have everyone in one place. It’s not often that he gets to work so closely with his support network.

Kamekona has a friend of a friend with a place that’s out-of-the-way, and it’s a matter of minutes for him to get on the phone and arrange to use it. Chin calls around and gets some hired muscle, most of them probably relatives; that’s good, Steve thinks, because the Kelly-Kalakaua clan is terrifying with weapons, and they can be trusted. He says as much to Danny, who nods tightly.

“I wish-” he starts, but shakes his head. “I hope this is over soon.”

“It will be,” Steve promises, laying his hand on Danny’s thigh and squeezing lightly. “We’ll get him, Danny.”

Danny’s smile is almost convincing.

-0-

Danny isn’t happy about it, but he stays put while Kamekona and Kono move Rachel, Grace, and Stan from FBI custody to the new safehouse. He sits upstairs in Steve’s room the entire time, clutching Steve’s phone in his hand like a lifeline, and he jumps when it rings, half an hour after Kamekona and Kono leave. “Yeah,” he says as he answers, and Steve knows better than to ask who the call is from. Danny wouldn’t answer it if he didn’t recognize the number. Danny listens for a few seconds before the tension drains from his shoulders.

“Yeah, thanks,” Danny says after a minute of listening. “Look, if there’s anything-” He nods a few times, thanks the caller again, and holds the phone out to Steve.

“McGarrett,” Steve says into the receiver.

“Ho, brah,” Kono replies. “We moved them safely, no tails, nothing. The FBI guys guarding them will probably be unhappy, since we managed to ghost their charges out from under their noses, but they’ll get over it.”

“Works for me,” Steve says, grinning. “Everything set up?”

“They’re stocked for a week at the least, and Chin gave me a cell phone to give them that’s off the grid,” Kono says. “We won’t need to go in or out of there, and we let Sid know that if anyone drops by unexpectedly, he should detain them and give us a call.”

Steve nods. “Head home,” he tells her. “We’ll meet at Mamo’s in the morning, but I want everyone rested and ready when we get there.” He pauses and glances at Danny, who is standing at the window and staring out across the ocean. “It’s probably going to get uglier than I like over the next few days, Kono, so if you-”

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence, boss,” Kono says breezily. “I might not have signed on for this specifically, but I’m in, got it?” Steve doesn’t say anything, and she adds, “You might need us, and you know it. I’m a better sniper than you’ll ever be, and that’s not counting all the tech stuff and the connections and whatever that everyone else is pulling. So you can stuff your objections up your-”

“I’ll pass, thanks,” Steve says dryly, but there’s something unclenching in his chest. It’s not like he thought he was coercing his team into anything with this whole situation, but hearing Kono adamantly refusing to back off makes him feel a lot better. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“See you then,” Kono says before hanging up.

Steve tosses the phone onto his bed and grabs Danny by the shoulder. “Let’s get everyone else out of here, and then we’ll grab some food and unwind a little before we go to sleep, okay?”

“How did I get here?” Danny asks, staring out the window. “I mean, honestly, do you have any idea how many colors you are? Four,” he adds, finally turning from the window. Steve’s confusion must be showing on his face, because Danny goes on. “There are four kinds of Interpol notices in your file, McGarrett. There are three red sheets from Spain alone, more blue notices than I could even count, a few greens, and a purple sheet that needs its own folder.” He takes a deep breath. “And yet, for all of that, here I am.”

“Here you are,” Steve agrees softly. His hand had fallen from Danny’s shoulder when Danny had turned before, and he’s torn between wanting to touch Danny again and wanting to back up and give them both some space. He stays still instead.

“And yet there’s nowhere I’d be safer right now, if all of the intel we’ve gotten is right,” Danny goes on. “I mean, if Mary’s friend Ben is right, this goes above my pay grade, and someone in the Agency is a part of it, meaning that I’d be dead by now if I had gone with them.”

“Danny,” Steve starts, but Danny shakes his head a little and Steve falls silent.

“And I should hate this, right? I should be sitting in a guest room, freaking the fuck out, planning my next move, figuring out how I’m going to spin this when I get back to DC, and yet-” Danny snorts and shrugs. “And yet,” he repeats, and then he leans in and drags Steve’s head down so he can kiss Steve, a firm press of his lips before he lets go.

“And yet,” Steve says after a moment, resting his forehead on Danny’s. “Look, I know this isn’t anyone’s idea of the perfect vacation, but at least you’re okay. We’re going to get him, Danny, and he won’t be able to hurt you or Grace or anyone, okay?”

“The funny thing is,” Danny replies, smiling a little, “that I believe you wholeheartedly on that one, babe.”

-0-

Chin takes Mamo home, and Toast and Mary leave not long after that. Steve heats up some leftover Thai from the refrigerator, and he and Danny eat in silence. The television is on, playing some sort of documentary about whales and plankton, and it’s easy enough for Steve to ignore in favor of studying Danny’s profile. He’s tense, but that’s not exactly a surprise. He keeps glancing around as if he’s just waiting for something to jump out and attack him.

“You’re safe here,” Steve says after a while, and Danny’s eyes immediately swivel to him.

“I know,” Danny says, frustrated, “but they have to know I’m here, right? I mean, where else would I be? It’s not like they think I’m here for the hell of it. Noshimuri saw us in Atlanta, and Wo Fat is smart enough to know that you wouldn’t let me go off without you once we got here.” He shrugs. “If they know where I am, why haven’t they made a move yet?”

Steve smiles darkly. “Look, this is not a dig against your buddies in law enforcement, but the people I have watching out for the house are quicker, quieter, and have less of an issue with shooting to kill than any cop the FBI might have watching you in protective custody. Wo Fat isn’t going to risk anything here, not unless we don’t give him any other options.”

“I can’t decide if that’s intensely frightening or incredibly comforting,” Danny admits after a moment. “I’m going to just ignore it for now, if that’s okay with everyone involved, because we could be thinking about other things instead, and that’s much more-”

Danny stops talking when you kiss him, Steve has learned. He tastes like pad thai and ginger ale, but he slides his hands into Steve’s hair and kisses back like he’s been waiting for Steve to make a move all night. Steve manages to push the coffee table away with his foot, making sure it’s not close enough to smack an arm on, and then he starts to work on Danny’s tie. Danny gets his hands beneath Steve’s shirt, apparently trying to be as distracting as possible while Steve attempts to get them a little less clothed.

“Would you just,” he half-complains as Danny leans in to nip at his collarbone. “Danny, God.”

“Hm,” Danny mumbles against his shirt. “You got stuff down here, or should we move upstairs?”

“We’re covered,” Steve replies, shoving Danny over and reaching past him into the drawer on the end table. “How do you want to-”

Danny settles his hands on Steve’s hips and thrusts up against him. “I’m thinking I would really enjoy fucking you,” he says, low and throaty, and Steve drops the lube and a condom on his chest without saying anything else. “You gonna let me up, babe, or are we gonna do this the messy way?”

Steve grins. “As much as I’m all for messy, it’s probably better if we make this as not-messy as possible, for the sake of the couch.” He leans back and tugs his shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor and standing to pull his pants off as well. Danny is still lying across the couch when Steve glances over. “I mean, if you’d rather go the messy route-”

“No, no, don’t mind me,” Danny says, waving a hand. “I was just, you know, enjoying the view for a minute.” He grins up at Steve and sits, pulling his shirt off and thumbing his pants open. There’s some sort of complicated shimmy-wriggle to get them off, and then he’s tugging Steve back onto the couch, shoving until Steve is the one on his back. Steve lets his thighs fall open, and Danny settles between them easily. He’s still got a hand on the lube, and he pours some out onto his fingers before meeting Steve’s eyes.

“Danny,” Steve groans as Danny teases his fingers against Steve’s entrance. “Danny, I-”

“Shh,” Danny says almost absently, and then he’s pushing his fingers into Steve, and Steve shuts his eyes and lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a moan and a gasp. “Let’s just, okay, is that okay,” and Danny isn’t making any sense, but Steve nods his head anyway, and Danny kisses the inside of Steve’s thigh and thrusts his fingers in and out.

“Danny,” Steve repeats a minute later, because he can appreciate Danny not wanting to hurt him, but he’s more than ready. Danny smirks against Steve’s skin and pulls his fingers out slowly, so slowly, before thrusting them in deep and fast. Steve swears and jerks his hips up off the couch, twisting as Danny withdraws his fingers completely. “You are cruel,” he says as Danny rolls the condom on and slicks himself up. “I didn’t know that about you, Danny, but it’s true.”

“Everyone has their moments,” Danny replies, and then he pushes in, slow but sure, until he can settle his hips against Steve’s. “Me, I like to think of this as an exercise in patience.”

“Cruel,” Steve repeats, or tries to; Danny chooses that moment to draw back and thrust in again, taking a moment to set up a steady pounding rhythm, so Steve’s words are lost somewhere in his throat. He grips Danny’s arms tightly and shifts his hips, and he’s pretty sure that Danny gets the message anyway, _harder faster more_.

“You are a distracting man,” Danny says, and Steve is pleased to note the trembling in his voice, the way he seems like he’s not quite in control as much as his actions would seem to say he is. “You’re just there, and the way you stand and sit and walk, Steve, it’s like-”

“Mission accomplished,” Steve chokes out, wishing he sounded more flippant and less like he’s ready to fall over the edge. He’s close though, really close, and when Danny wraps blunt fingers around Steve’s cock and leans in to nip at his lips, demanding and insistent as any words would have been, Steve groans into his mouth and comes, jerking his hips as he closes his eyes and rides out the sensation. Danny thrusts into him a few more shaky times, and then he drops his head to Steve’s shoulder and shudders before collapsing against him.

“We’re going to be stuck together if you stay there,” Steve says when he recovers enough to form the thought. His hand is drifting up and down Danny’s back, though, which he realizes might be sending a bit of a mixed message.

Danny groans and burrows a little more into Steve’s chest, and Steve smiles. It’s not like he really cares, he decides, tugging the blanket from the back of the couch and draping it across Danny’s back. He settles his arm across Danny’s waist and presses a kiss to Danny’s forehead before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

-0-

“So what’s the plan?” Mamo asks. He’s looking at Steve like he thinks Steve _has_ a plan – and yeah, okay, Steve probably should have a plan at this point, but he’s coming up mostly blank.

“Um,” he says, shrugging a shoulder.

Danny snorts. “I’ve got a plan, but I am absolutely positive that nobody here is going to like it.” He pauses, cocking his head at Kono. “Well, maybe you. There’s a chance that you’ll like it.”

“That means I get to pull out the sniper rifle, doesn’t it?” Kono asks gleefully, leaning in and grinning. “If you say I get to use the sniper rifle, you’ll be my new favorite person, fair warning.”

“Hey,” Chin says mildly. Kono smacks him on the knee without looking.

“There is an opening for a sniper rifle, yes,” Danny says, grinning right back at her. “I can’t promise you’ll get to use it, but it really would make me feel a lot better if I knew you had it handy.”

“See,” Kono crows, leaning back into the couch, “giving me the sniper rifle will make him feel better. Definitely, definitely my favorite.”

Steve groans. “What’s the plan, Danny?”

“I was thinking about something you said last night,” Danny replies, suddenly serious. “Wo Fat won’t attack your house to get to me unless we don’t leave him any other options.”

“Right,” Steve says slowly. He’s got a hazy idea of where this is going, and Danny was right, he doesn’t like it at all.

Danny shrugs. “So we don’t give him any other option.”

There’s a moment of dead silence before Chin lets out a breath. “That could actually work,” he says slowly.

“No,” Steve says.

“Your house is probably the most defensible place we could hope for,” Kono points out.

“No,” Steve repeats.

“Look, babe,” Danny says, sliding over a little on the couch so he can grab at Steve’s arm. Danny’s eyes are clear and direct, like he’s not suggesting anything more dangerous than loco moco for lunch. “We don’t know where he is, and finding him is going to take time and resources, right?”

“We have both of those things,” Steve says stubbornly.

Danny shakes his head. “And in the meantime, what, I’m supposed to stay locked in your house? That’s really not my style, and you know it.”

“Just until we find out where he’s hiding,” Steve replies, feeling like he’s fighting a battle he’s already lost. “A week, maybe two, while we hunt him down. He can’t hide from us forever.”

“Sure he can,” Kamekona interjects. “Crafty guy like Wo Fat, he can keep his head down and just toss guys at you, one after the other. He’s got a lot of resources, brah, and he seems like the kind of guy who doesn’t mind a little bit of a wait.”

“He’s waited ten years for the chance to take me out,” Danny says. “I’m pretty sure holing up in paradise for a month isn’t going to break him.”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “So, what, you think we should just sit tight in the house and see if that draws him out?”

Danny bumps their shoulders together. “No, it’s a little more complex than that.”

-0-

Danny’s idea of “a little more complex” involves more ammunition than Steve has ever seen in one place at one time. Kamekona just shrugs when Danny hands him a list, and the next morning, he pulls his truck into Steve’s garage and opens the back up.

“You are a good man,” Danny says, clapping him on the shoulder. “Remind me to make sure your file gets moved way the hell down the list when I get back to DC.”

Kamekona smiles broadly. “I got more, you decide you need it,” he says, reaching in and grabbing a crate. Steve follows suit, and the next twenty minutes are spent lugging the crates into the living room, where Kono sorts it into piles.

“It’s like Christmas,” she singsongs when Steve stops for a breather. “Look, boss, grenades!”

“Grenades?” Steve asks, glancing at the wooden box by Kono’s feet. “What kind of grenades?”

Kono peers into the box. “Stunners,” she concludes. “Looks like a bunch of flash-bangs and some gas ones. Nothing that’s going to go boom and bring down a building.”

“Incapacitation, not murder,” Steve says, nodding. “Good choice.”

“I thought so,” Danny says as he walks in with yet another box. He sets it next to Kono, who looks in and immediately reaches for the contents. “That’s the last of the boxes.”

“Good,” Steve replies, looking around. “We’ve got more of an arsenal here than they do at Pearl.”

Danny makes a teetering motion with his hand. “We’ll return what we don’t use.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “That’s not as comforting as you think it is, Danny.”

“Sure it is,” Danny beams. “So, is Toast doing his thing?”

“Toast has done his thing,” Mary replies, coming in from the kitchen. “Also, he’s been ‘doing his thing’ since we left Mamo’s yesterday, so consider this your fair warning.”

Danny blinks. “Fair warning for-”

“Hey, FBI dude,” Toast says, walking into the living room. “I did it, oh man, did I do it. It’s a thing of beauty, it’s just – I did it, man, and wow, did I do it.”

“Ah,” Danny says after a moment. “He’s high as a kite, isn’t he?”

Steve snorts. “No, this is just Toast fighting sleep deprivation with caffeine and sugar.”

“Don’t smoke up on the job,” Toast adds, rolling up on the balls of his feet before settling. “Oh, man, I did it, though.”

“That’s great, Toast,” Danny says, clapping him on the shoulder. “Why don’t you go, I don’t know, detox or crash or something-”

“Can’t,” Toast says. “Gotta keep going now, going going gone, man, you know?”

Mary grabs his hand. “Come on, Adam,” she says, tugging him back towards the kitchen, “let’s go check on the thing with the numbers-”

“The algorithm,” Toast corrects, but he follows her into the kitchen.

“Is that-” Danny breaks off, staring after Toast. “He’s going to be okay, right?”

Chin nods. “He’s got another eighteen hours before he hits the breaking point. Only twelve of those will be of any use to us, but he won’t crash before tonight.”

“That is terrifying,” Danny decides, looking at the door to the kitchen for another moment before turning to Steve. “This guy helps you steal multi-million dollar items?”

“It takes all kinds, brah,” Kono pipes up from the couch. “Case in point, we’re currently helping an FBI agent set up a trap for the Mafioso who’s trying to kill him.”

Danny seems to consider it for a moment before nodding. “Point well taken.”

“Good,” Kono replies, pointing at a box across the living room. “Bring that here, will you?”

Steve leaves them to it, wandering into what had been his father’s study. It’s almost exactly the same as it had been on the day Steve and Mary had gotten the news; for all that Steve has reclaimed a lot of the house as his own, this is one spot he hadn’t been able to bring himself to change. Steve isn’t at all surprised to find Mamo sitting in the chair at the desk.

“Hey, Stevie,” he says quietly. “What’s up?”

Steve sighs. “You think this is gonna work?”

Mamo’s forehead crinkles up as he considers the question. “I think it’s got possibility,” he says finally. “That haole of yours came up with a good enough plan, and as long as all the players stick to it, this will be over in a few days at the most.”

“I know that much,” Steve says. “I’m asking if you think it’s going to work.”

Mamo shrugs. “Your guess is as good at mine, kiddo. If it were anyone but Wo Fat, I’d be a little more positive, but he’s a slick one.”

“So I should be on my guard, is what you’re telling me,” Steve says.

“You should always be on your guard,” Mamo replies evenly, “but yeah, that’s all the advice I can offer at this point.”

“It depends on whether he buys that stuff Toast planted or not,” Steve says, thinking out loud. “If he does, then we’re probably good, but if he smells a trap, we’re probably all dead.”

Mamo nods. “Or in trouble, at the very least.” He shifts in the seat. “Look, Steve, I have a few guys willing to lend a hand. Security guards, if you will.”

“I don’t want anyone else to get hurt,” Steve says immediately. “I mean, I’d like it if nobody got hurt, but I know how this is going to end. I’d rather not put other people in the way, though.”

“They know the risks,” Mamo says simply. “Honestly, telling Kawika to call them back is probably more trouble than it’s worth at this point. You might as well let them stay.”

“They’re already out there,” Steve says with a frown, more acceptance than question. “We didn’t even notice.”

“I noticed,” Chin says, poking his head in. “Two teams down by the water, three at various points up and down the street. If nothing else, we’ll know when Wo Fat makes his move.”

Steve sighs. “That’s good,” he admits. “Thanks, Mamo.”

“Don’t mention it,” Mamo says easily, resting back against the chair. “Now we wait, yeah?”

Steve opens his mouth to reply, but he’s cut off by a shout from the kitchen. He and Chin are darting through the living room almost instantly; everyone else is already clustered around Toast, who is babbling out techno-speak as fast as his mouth can handle.

“Adam,” Chin says sharply, and Toast breaks off mid-stream. “Ten words or less. Go.”

Toast spins his laptop around. Steve can see an email, filled with photographs and text, detailing the protection around Steve’s house and a schedule of supposed activity – the trail that Toast had laid out for Wo Fat. At the top of the message is a simple reply.

 **You will be compensated as agreed. I would recommend being elsewhere by nightfall.**

“Wo Fat replied,” Toast says with a grin. “I think he bought it.”

-0-

The rest of the day flies by in preparation. Kamekona makes a few trips out for additional supplies, but other than that, everyone stays in, trying to make Steve’s house as defensible as possible. Danny refuses to sit out of the way, and his glare when Steve suggests it is enough to blister.

“This is my fight,” he says shortly. “Mention sidelining me again and I’ll kneecap you, McGarrett, see if I don’t.”

Steve grins and presses a fleeting kiss to his forehead. “Message received, Special Agent Williams.”

“Good,” Danny mutters, but he looks somewhat mollified.

There’s a tap at the door on the lanai just before dusk, and it’s only the fact that Steve recognizes Kawika a split-second before he pulls the trigger that prevents everything from going up too early. Steve scowls as he yanks the door open. “What are you, insane?”

Kawika shrugs a shoulder, apparently unconcerned. “My boy up the road says there’s someone making rounds a few blocks over. It’s probably a scout for your friend.”

“Thanks, Kawika,” Chin says, yanking Steve back into the house. “Anything else?”

Kawika snorts. “I’ll send you a text if I hear anything else, brah. No need to risk getting shot by coming up here again.”

“Sorry,” Steve says, but Kawika laughs quietly and slips back down the beach, blending into the night after a few yards.

It’s not quite an hour before Steve’s phone lights up. He and Danny are in the living room with the television on, for all appearances having a normal night. They’re both armed to the teeth, though, and there’s Kevlar beneath both of their shirts. Steve glances at his phone casually, then smiles at the television. “Kawika says the car that’s been circling is heading in this direction.”

“That’s as much warning as we can ask for,” Danny says, relaxing into the couch. He angles his body so he can see out the window. “Here goes nothing, right?”

“Here goes nothing,” Steve agrees. “Danny-”

“If you’re about to make some sort of grand declaration, you can shove it,” Danny says shortly. “One, we’re going to be fine, and two, I’m pretty sure I’d rather let them shoot me than listen to you talk your way through feelings.”

“God, you’re an ass,” Steve breathes, reaching out and grabbing Danny’s arm. Danny smiles at him quietly and pats his hand.

“We’re going to be fine, babe,” he murmurs, and that’s when all hell breaks loose.

-0-

“I’m sorry you had to get involved in this,” Wo Fat says. Steve is tied to a chair, though, and Danny is sprawled on the floor, unconscious, so he figures that Wo Fat probably isn’t too sorry. “Honestly, Mr. McGarrett, you did me quite a service. I’d be inclined to let you live, if it wasn’t for the fact that you seem the vengeful type.”

“Takes one to know one,” Steve spits out. “Ten years, really? You wait ten years to take Danny out, and for what? It’s not like he was going to go after you, not from DC, not after you were promised all sorts of immunity for turning against the Cirgano family.”

“I don’t like loose ends,” Wo Fat says, as if it’s that simple. Steve stares at him for a moment before deciding that, to him, it probably is. “It’s really nothing against Williams himself.”

Chin is upstairs, and Kono is on the lanai; Kamekona is an unknown factor at this point. Toast and Mary are out of the house, holed up in a motel room somewhere in Waikiki, and it had taken more than a little convincing to get Mamo to go with them, but he’d acquiesced after a lot of grumbling. Steve is hoping that between the parts of his team that are still present and the Kapu in the bushes, someone will be able to get a clear shot at Wo Fat.

“Yeah, well, tell that to his kid,” Steve snarls. “She’s about to grow up without her dad because you can’t let things go.”

Wo Fat’s face turns thoughtful. “Oh, I see I’ve hit a sore spot,” he says, and he’s not actually rubbing his hands together and cackling in glee, but Steve can almost see the urge. “At least she won’t be an orphan, McGarrett. That mother of hers is a little too much for me to take on right now. She’ll have a few years, at least-”

“You’re a piece of work,” Steve says, working fruitlessly against the zip ties holding his wrists to the chair. He’d had a knife settled in the small of his back for an occasion like this, but Noshimuri had found it and tossed it onto the coffee table almost as soon as they had broken in.

“I didn’t find anyone else, boss,” Noshimuri reports, materializing from the kitchen. Steve tries not to let his relief show. “Their turncoat isn’t here. We’ll have to track him down later.”

“Ah, Mr. Charles,” Wo Fat says, sneering. “I suppose he and Ms. McGarrett are far away by now. We’ll find them, though, have no fear.” His smile is frigid.

“You son of a bitch,” Steve spits, “you _leave my sister out of this_ -”

There’s a sound like a coffee can hitting the ground, and Steve slams his eyes shut just in time. The flash-bang grenade goes off, and when Steve opens his eyes, Kamekona is slamming a hand up into Noshimuri’s nose. He drops like a ton of bricks. Steve wants to say something, to thank Kamekona for his timely interruption, but there’s a strange gurgling sound from his other side.

Steve whips his head around and has to blink to reconcile the scene before him. Wo Fat is on the ground, slumped oddly against the coffee table, fingers patting almost absently against the blood pouring from a gash in his neck. He’s pale and trembling, and his lips are moving without any sound.

Danny is on his knees beside Wo Fat, a knife held firmly in his right hand, eyes trained on Wo Fat. There’s no expression at all on his face.


	6. matters met

“Here, brah,” Kono says quietly in Steve’s ear, and a moment later, Steve is rubbing his wrists and sliding out of the chair. He drops to the floor beside Danny in a second, reaching out cautiously to wrap his fingers around Danny’s wrist.

“Give me the knife, Danny,” he says gently, rubbing his thumb against the straining tendons in Danny’s hand. “Come on, it’s over. Let go.”

“I wasn’t going to kill him,” Danny says in a strange, detached voice. “I was going to arrest him. That was the plan, Steve, but then he got past the door, he knocked me out. And when I came to-”

Danny’s entire body shudders, and he drops the knife to the floor and slumps sideways. “He was threatening Rachel and Grace,” he says as Steve wraps an arm around him. “And he was going to kill you, Steve, and then me, and Mary and Toast and my baby, and, Jesus.” He brings his hand up to wipe at his eyes, and Steve only just catches it in time. There’s no need for Danny to smear Wo Fat’s blood all over his face. “I wasn’t going to kill him.”

“Danny,” Steve says quietly, meeting Kono’s eyes and jerking his chin minutely in Wo Fat’s direction. The man is still gurgling, but there’s no way he’ll survive the next ten minutes. Kono nods and moves between Danny and Wo Fat, blocking Danny’s view.

Steve stands as slowly as he can, pulling Danny up with him. “Come on,” he murmurs, “upstairs, Danny, let’s go upstairs, let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

He keeps up the chatter as he moves Danny to the stairs. Chin is standing at the base of the staircase, and he just nods as they pass by, watching as Kono leans over Wo Fat, now stretched out on the floor. They don’t say a word to each other, but Steve knows without a doubt that by the time Danny gets back downstairs, there won’t be any signs of what had happened.

“Come on,” Steve continues, guiding Danny up the stairs, down the hall, into the master bathroom. As soon as the door shuts behind them, Danny clutches at Steve’s shirt and leans in, sighing shakily.

“I’ve been trained to deal with this,” he mutters. “Just – just give me a minute, and I’ll be fine, I swear.”

Steve shakes his head as he brings his arms up around Danny’s frame. “There’s no way you were trained for that,” he says. “Danny, you just had to do something really terrible, okay? And if you hadn’t, we’d all be dead or on our way there, so take a deep breath for me, come on, Danny.”

Danny is breathing into Steve’s shirt in short, hiccupping breaths. “I’ve shot people before,” he says. “That was awful, but this-”

“Shower,” Steve says firmly, pulling slightly back so he can start to unbutton Danny’s shirt. Danny blinks up at him, but takes over halfway down the front of his shirt. Steve catches it before it can hit the ground, tossing it at the counter. He’ll throw it away when Danny gets in the shower; there’s no saving it, and Danny doesn’t need to see the bloody stains again.

Steve goes to move away when Danny bends to take his pants off, but Danny’s hand shoots out and grabs Steve’s wrist. He opens his mouth and closes it, like he doesn’t know how to say what’s on his mind, so Steve steps back in and rests a hand on Danny’s shoulder. “I’ll stay in here while you get clean,” he says. “Okay?”

Danny nods, his eyes flicking to the shower. Steve pulls the curtain back all the way, leaning over to turn the water on and pretending he doesn’t see how Danny’s eyes scout the stall to make sure there are no threats. Steve stands after a moment, turning to face Danny after pulling the curtain closed. “I’m going to call Chin up here,” he tells Danny. “I won’t leave the room, and he won’t come in. Okay?”

Danny nods again, leaning back against the sink and crossing his arms across his chest. Steve sticks his head out into the hallway. “Chin?”

Chin is up the stairs in a few seconds, making his way towards Steve with a grave look on his face. “No police, so that’s good,” Chin says briskly. His eyes slide to the door. “He okay?”

Steve shrugs. “He will be. I’m going to stay with him for a little while, away from people. Can you-”

“We’ve got it,” Chin says with a nod. “Give me two hours and we’ll be out of your hair.”

Steve nods. They won’t leave, not really; they’ll be out of the house, but Steve knows that Chin and Kono and Kamekona won’t go far. Toast and Mary are probably already on their way to the house, and Steve figures there’s a snowball’s chance in hell that they dropped Mamo home first. “Don’t leave until we get down there, okay?” he says. “I’d like to see everyone with my own eyes before I turn in.”

Chin nods again and heads back towards the stairs. “I’ll let you know when it’s good to come down.”

Steve pulls his head back into the bathroom. Danny hasn’t moved an inch from his position against the sink. Steve smiles a little. “Water’s getting cold, Danny.”

“Can you-” Danny clears his throat, his eyes flicking to the shower curtain again.

“Sure,” Steve agrees, shucking his own shirt. “Get in, Danny. I’ll be there in a second.”

Danny walks over to the shower and steps in hesitantly, pulling the curtain closed behind him. Steve quickly grabs Danny’s ruined clothing and stuffs it into the hamper, tossing his own clothes on top of it. He’ll throw it out later.

“It’s over,” Danny says as Steve steps into the shower and pulls Danny in. Danny’s arms slip around Steve’s waist, holding on tightly. “It’s over, Steve.”

They stand together under the spray for a long time without saying another word.

-0-

Steve’s phone vibrates about an hour after he and Danny get out of the shower. Danny had called Rachel earlier and spoken to Grace, which had done a world of good for his mental state. He and Steve have been lying on the bed since; Danny doesn’t seem inclined to talk about what had happened, and Steve isn’t going to push him.

“Hey,” Steve says after checking the phone, “the team wants to check in.”

Danny stiffens. “I really would rather not-”

“It’s fine,” Steve interrupts gently. “Do you really think I’d ask you to go back down there if it wasn’t?”

Danny nods slowly. “I – shouldn’t ask, should I?”

“I think we’d all appreciate it in the long run if you didn’t,” Steve agrees. He doesn’t know what they did with the body, although he could probably venture a guess. Still, he can ask them later, check the details and arrange a cover for everyone involved if need be. The less Danny knows, though, the less he’ll have to debate about revealing at a later date.

Danny nods and sits up. “Let’s go say hi.”

Mary is halfway up the stairs by the time Steve gets to the top. She rushes up the rest of the steps and throws herself at him when she sees him. “Jesus, Steve, go back to stealing shit,” she says, voice trembling. “The chances of some asshole tying you to a chair and threatening to kill you are so much lower.”

“You were in Paris. You know that’s not necessarily true,” Steve replies, but he hugs her back just as fiercely. “We’re fine, Mary. Everyone is fine.”

“Still,” Mary sniffs before pulling back and turning to Danny. He looks as surprised as Steve feels when Mary gives him the same sort of all-encompassing hug.

“Hey, yeah, we’re fine,” he says, patting her back a little awkwardly. “You and Toast are okay? No trouble at the motel?”

“We got weird looks from the manager about renting a room by the hour for the two of us and Mamo, but no, that’s all,” Mary says, laughing a little as she pulls back. “We didn’t hear a single bump in the night that we couldn’t account for.”

“Please don’t elaborate,” Danny says quickly, and Mary laughs and heads back down the stairs.

There is absolutely no trace of Wo Fat or Noshimuri in the living room. Both bodies are gone, as is the rug; the blood has been cleaned from the coffee table and the floor. All in all, the place looks good, Steve decides. Even so, he steers Danny towards the kitchen. The rest of the team follows.

“Problem solved?” Kamekona asks when they’re all settled around the kitchen table. “I mean, more or less, anyway?”

“No pickles,” Danny confirms, which makes a huge grin break across Kamekona’s face. “In fact, if I never see another pickle for the rest of my life, I’ll die a happy man.”

“I can get on board with that,” Mamo agrees. “I’m getting a little old for all these pickles.”

There’s a moment of silence before Kono snorts, and then they’re all laughing. Steve rests a hand on Danny’s shoulder and Danny tilts his head back, his eyes crinkling as he shakes with laughter; Kono rests her head on the table and lets out high-pitched giggles; Mary buries her head in Toast’s shoulder and snickers. It takes a while to die down, and Steve has a smile firmly planted on his face when he speaks again. “Is everyone okay?”

“We’re good,” Toast replies. Chin nods.

“Sorry it took so long to get to you,” Kamekona says, and just like that, the mood quiets. “He had a guy at the door, too, and we had to take him out quiet-like so he didn’t tip off the head honcho.”

“We’re okay,” Danny says, surprising Steve. “Thanks, though. You came in at pretty much the perfect time.”

“I’m a little sad that I didn’t get the chance to shoot anything, though,” Kono says, mock-pout fully in play. “I cleaned my rifle up and everything.”

“Like it wasn’t clean before?” Chin asks, one eyebrow raised. “Seriously, Kono, there are parents less devoted to their children than you are to that gun.”

“Shut it,” Kono says amiably. “I didn’t even get to wave it at anyone, Chin. That’s just a waste of a nice piece of machinery.”

Danny stares at her for a moment before smiling a little. “You are a terrifying woman,” he says, but there’s a definite note of admiration in his voice.

Kono smiles at him. “And don’t you forget it, Williams.”

“I’d like to get home,” Mamo says after a minute. “Rest is good for the weary soul, or so I’ve heard.”

Chin stands. “That’s my cue, then. Coming?” he asks Kono, who nods and stands.

“Hey,” Danny says, standing with them. He sticks his hand out in Chin’s direction. “Look, thanks. You stuck your necks out for me, and I know you totally didn’t have to. In fact, business-wise, you probably should have just let me-”

“Don’t,” Kono says, taking Danny’s hand as Chin releases it. “Not everything is a business transaction, brah. We weren’t going to stand by and let Wo Fat get you.”

“Thanks anyway,” Danny says, smiling. He turns to look at the rest of the group around the table. “I’ll do what I can to make this go away for a while,” he says. “I can’t just tear up the file on you guys, but I can make sure it gets pushed way down the pile.”

“Much obliged,” Kamekona says, standing and helping Mamo up. “And hey, man, if you’re ever in the area, stop in and get that strawberry lychee ice, you got me?”

Danny laughs. “We’ll see about that, Ice Man.”

Kamekona nods and heads for the door as Mamo stops in front of Danny. “Special Agent Williams.”

“Mister…” Danny hesitates. “Mamo. Sorry, that was going to be a lot more respectful, but-”

Mamo laughs. “Take care of yourself, boy. No more of this mafia business, you got me?”

“Loud and clear,” Danny says, smiling back at Mamo. “Why do I have the feeling that Steve has gotten the same speech?”

Mamo just grins and turns to Chin. “Home, please,” he says as they leave.

“We’re going back to Adam’s for the night,” Mary says when the sound of various vehicles dies away. “I’m assuming you’re heading out tomorrow, Danny?”

Danny nods. “I’m meeting Rachel and Grace at the airport. Also Stan, though that’s more of a proximity thing than anything else. Our flight back to DC is just after three.”

Mary smiles and leans into Toast. “Good luck, okay? I mean, take Mamo’s advice and stay away from the crazy ones, but if you need a hand, you know how to find us.”

“Pickles,” Danny says gravely. “God, an entire food group, ruined forever. Good thing they aren’t my favorite or anything.”

“Go more specific,” Toast advises. “Gherkins, bread and butter, dill-”

“And now he’s got the munchies,” Danny groans, shaking Toast’s hand. “Go, sleep, you have saved my bacon.”

“Bacon is good too,” Toast says thoughtfully as Mary pulls him out of the house, laughing.

Danny sags as the door shuts behind them. “I’m tired,” he says, letting his head drop back. “I mean, I could sleep for days, I’m that kind of tired.”

“It’s all the vigilance,” Steve says wisely. “Keeping your guard up like that for more than a few hours is exhausting.”

Danny glares at him without moving his head, which ruins the effect a bit, not that Steve would ever say anything. He bites the inside of his lip to keep from smiling. “I am aware of this, Steven. FBI agent, remember? I’ve been in high-stress situations before, thank you very much.”

“Well, Special Agent Williams,” Steve says, walking over and standing beside Danny, “is there anything I can do to help you unwind?”

Danny glares for a few more seconds before grinning up at Steve. “I’m sure we can come up with something.”

-0-

“So,” Steve says as they wait in the living room. The taxi is on its way, and Steve isn’t panicking, not really. This was never about anything more than blowing off steam, and it’s not like he’s in love with Danny or anything like that. He’s just going to miss having the guy around, that’s all. “Back to DC, huh?”

“Back to DC,” Danny confirms. “And oh, that’s going to be a joy, let me just tell you. I mean, as far as they know, I report a threat, get my family out of the area, and then drop off the radar. I’m surprised there isn’t a bulletin out for me by now.”

“There might be,” Steve points out. “It’s not like we’ve been checking the news.”

Danny shrugs. “There isn’t. I asked Toast to check yesterday.”

“Ah,” Steve replies. “That’s weird, then.”

“A little,” Danny agrees. “Whatever, I’m not really worried about it. Mary gave me a few names that her contact told her might be on the take, and my first order of business when I get back will be checking those names out.” The smile on his face is sharp.

“Best of luck with that,” Steve says, a hint of a grin on his face. “You couldn’t pay me enough to trade places with anyone on that list.”

“Probably for the best,” Danny says, shark’s grin still in place. “And, hey, it’s not like I have to explain my absence to my boss, which is always a plus.”

Steve laughs. “That’s a benefit, yeah.” He hesitates. “Look, Danny-”

“Look, Steve-” Danny says at the same time. They both laugh, a little awkward, and glance away from each other.

“I’m not going to promise to call or write or anything,” Danny goes on after a moment, “but I’d like to keep in touch.”

“I’d like that,” Steve says, swallowing anything else that he might have thought about saying. “You have my number, and that’s not likely to change any time soon.”

“And if it does, pickles,” Danny adds, smirking as Steve rolls his eyes. “Hey, if pickles are now going to have this alternate meaning that I can never fully explain to anyone else, I’ve got to get it in while I can. I might just call Kamekona up and ask him about pickles every now and then just so I can make sure I didn’t make the whole thing up.”

“Aw, checking in on me,” Steve teases. “Don’t worry, Danny, I’ll be fine without you here. No pining away in my room, no sighing and moping-”

“Ass,” Danny says, but he’s laughing as he leans across the middle of the couch. Steve leans in to meet him, and the kiss isn’t wild or desperate or any of those things. It’s a little bittersweet, Steve thinks as Danny pulls away.

A car horn blares from outside, and they both jump.

“Well,” Danny says, glancing at the window, “that’s my cue.”

Steve nods and stands, holding a hand out for Danny. “Stay safe, okay?”

Danny keeps Steve’s hand in his own and tugs until Steve is pressed right up against him. “Will do, babe. Keep your head down, okay? I’d really, really prefer to not have to arrest you.”

Steve snorts. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Good enough,” Danny says, leaning up to kiss Steve again, a bare brush of lips against Steve’s mouth. “Thank you, Steve.”

“Any time, Danny,” Steve says, and then Danny is gone, out the front door and into the dab and pulling away.

Steve just watches him go.


	7. more

Steve's phone rings on a Friday, almost fourteen months later.

"So," Danny says as soon as Steve picks up, "are you home, or are you stealing something?"

"Would I answer my phone if I were stealing something?" Steve asks, smiling as he puts down the blueprints he's been studying. "How have you been?"

"Good, great, whatever," Danny says. "You're planning on stealing something soon, aren't you? I know that tone of voice, Steve, and it's the one that says you're up to no good."

"I see no reason to answer the question, then," Steve replies, relaxing back into his chair. "What's up?"

"I'm moving to Hawaii," Danny says, just like that, and Steve blinks. There are definitely a few silent seconds before Danny prompts, "Steve?"

"You're - I'm sorry, you're what?" Steve is about eighty percent sure that his misheard Danny, because there's just no way-

"I'm moving to Hawaii," Danny repeats, and okay, apparently Steve had heard him just fine. "Grace loved it there, Stan got some sort of lawyering thing after he lost the election, Rachel just smirked when she told me and let me know that she'd already filled out and signed my transfer papers, and all I had to do was tell her to file them." He finally stops for a breath. "So yeah, I'm moving to Hawaii. In fact, I'm moving to Oahu, and I found a place in Honolulu, my things are being shipped out in a few hours, and-"

"When?" Steve breaks in, his grin stealing slowly back across his face.

"I'll be there on Wednesday at noon," Danny replies. "I was hoping I could get a ride from the airport, if you were, you know, not off in some other part of the world _stealing things_."

Steve glances out his window, taking in the sweeping countryside of Greece, the colorful buildings, the life around him. He thinks about the piece he's been planning to lift, a very strange painting by an even stranger man, one that would fetch him a nice profit from some rich people with truly bizarre taste.

He smiles. "I'll meet you there," Steve promises, hanging up the phone.

**Author's Note:**

> This story would not have been possible without the support of many, many people. Thanks to theellibu for reading through the first bit of it and assuring me that it wasn't all awful, to Merrov for reading along as I wrote and always wanting more, to shinysylver for holding my hand and being incredibly encouraging even though she has no actual interest in AUs, to sirona for being the most enthusiastic beta ever, and to stormylullabye for not being afraid to whack me with the Beta Stick. I owe you guys all of my gratitude, because this story would never have come to be without you.
> 
> There are references in this story to Stargate, Supernatural, and M. Chandler's _Shadow of the Templar_ series. Spot them all and you get an internet cookie.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [fanmix: it's not what you're sure of (it's what you dont know)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/318248) by [somehowunbroken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/pseuds/somehowunbroken)




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